The Harry Potter Conspiracy
by LinzRW
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy and James Potter II arrive at Hogwarts and what do they find? Harry Potter is the most evil wizard of all time, the prophecy is a lie, and Dumbledore is a homosexual criminal mastermind...So what's Voldemort doing in the picture?
1. Prologue: Voldemort's Rant

**Prologue: Voldemort's Rant**

What's my side of the story?

Someone _actually_ wants to know my side of the story. Never thought that would happen since I'm all _evil_ and _vicious_ and _vindictive_. Just because my face isn't pretty anymore doesn't mean I don't have feelings too, you know!

Everyone's so hung up on that Potter boy. He survives death at the hands of the "most evil wizard of all time" and what does he get? _A cute little scar_! What do I get? I have to look like a _freaking snake for all eternity_! Do you know how hard it is to give up your hair and your nose!? What did Harry get for his adventure? Hmm? A stupid, adorable, little lightning-bolt scar—ohhh I can see the sacrifice there.

And don't even get me started on Dumbledore. I'm _sorry_ he had to lose his sister, but it was his own fault with his stupid quest for power. Thank God, Fudge saw the danger and stopped Dumbledore from becoming Minister of Magic. For once in his life Fudge was right—_Fudge_ of all people was right, damnit!

At least Fudge had the brains to realize how _evil_ Dumbledore really was. He knew that the man who pretended to be the great and mighty educator of children was actually a homosexual criminal mastermind who would manipulate prophecies and use Harry Potter to accomplish his owns ends.

So, I launched this long, wizarding war against Dumbledore (in accordance to the _true_ prophecy). I will save you the boring details for now.

I confess that I did not always do the right thing. I killed innocent people for the "greater good" and, looking back on it now, I regret my decisions. I regret all those deaths and the fact that I had to use Dark Magic to create horcruxes. However, the horcruxes were a necessity—going up in a war against the greatest wizard of all time, I needed a little leverage.

But _no_—that wasn't enough to stop Dumbledore. He discovered my horcruxes and told little Harry Potter about them, which, as we all know, led to my ultimate demise.

Luckily, even though Harry and Dumbledore were destroying pieces of my soul, I had one trick of my sleeve that they didn't know about. I had Snape.

You see, Snape was something of a quadruple agent. Dumbledore was supposed to think that Snape was working for him, not knowing that Snape works for me, but actually, instead, Snape was Dumbledore's man—wait! The plot thickens! Snape also knew of the prophecy foretelling the end of the wizarding world. So, Snape agreed with me to act as Dumbledore's man and to win Dumbledore's trust by pretending to love Lily Potter. (Confusing, right?)

Snape did not love Lily Potter—she was a bit of a prat anyways.

All those memories that Snape showed Harry in the pensive…they were fakes. Snape? Love Lily? I laugh. Any sensible Death Eater knew that Snape was in love with Pomona Sprout.

Anyways, I had Snape deceive Dumbledore and kill him when the opportunity arose. To make things better, Snape then used his own fake memories to convince Harry to kill himself. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had _another_ trick up his sleeve and the stupid, brat _would not die_. Come on! Two killing curses! Two! What kind of cruel, sick joke is this!?

Yeah, yeah… It's _love_.

Don't even get me started on love.

I was _loved_. My Death Eaters! They were my best friends! Ask them about the fun times we had together and they'll all tell you I was the life of the party. France! Do you have any idea what kind of friends French wine makes for you? And those French babes, they _loved_ me. See, I know _all about love_. But no… That's not enough. You have to be _Saint Harry Potter_ to be loved. Oh la-dee-da! Why don't I just change my name and the world will love me too!?

And that brings us to the name "Death Eater". What about it? You know… my followers eat death… eat as in prevent… Does no one get that? …we thought it was funny… Though we were drunk at the time… What can I say? That French wine goes straight to your head. Trust me.

Oh and then we have the name "Voldemort". Why does everyone automatically assume that the name Voldemort means "flying death"? I mean, it does… but it was just a joke. We were in France and… the French wine… it _does_ things… I mean, the Death Eaters and I practically busted up laughing every time someone called me He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Obviously people have trouble pronouncing French words.

No one believes me. Nope. Not at all. Because _Dumbledore_ and _Harry Potter _have turned to entire wizarding world against me! With all their flashy magic wands tricks and fancy words…

It's all just one giant conspiracy! I'm telling you! One great, _giant_ Harry Potter Conspiracy!


	2. One: Scorpius' Rant

**Chapter One: Scorpius' Rant **

"Dad…Isn't that Harry Potter?"

"Er… Yeah…"

"You went to school with him. We're you two good friends?"

There was a pause, and then Draco said, "Um…I hate his guts."

Scorpius blinked. "Right…"

"Draco, honey," said Astoria angrily. "Don't say such things so easily. Harry Potter's a good man. You know that."

Students and parents and siblings mulled about the Malfoy family, talking in loud voices and bustling about wildly. Somewhere across Platform 9¾, the famous Harry Potter with his jet black hair and lightning bolt scar stood next to his wife and smiled at his three children.

Scorpius had never seen Harry Potter before, though he knew his father and Harry had been schoolmates. Draco didn't like to talk about Harry Potter much, though Scorpius never knew why.

"So," said Draco, patting his son awkwardly on the head. "Ready for your first year at Hogwarts?"

"I guess so…"

Draco placed a hand on his son's shoulder and leaned over to mutter in Scorpius' ear, "Do you see the family of red-heads standing beside Potter?"

Scorpius squinted and, sure enough, through the crowds he could see a tall, middle-aged ginger standing beside his wife (not a ginger) with two little ginger children running about them

Slowly, Scorpius nodded.

"Watch out for the Weasleys – they all have red hair, freckles, and Gryffindor robes…Used to be hand-me-downs…" added Draco bitterly.

Rolling her eyes, Astoria pulled Scorpius away from his father and gave him a quick hug. "Do you need any help getting you things onto the train?"

"No. I'm fine," said Scorpius. He gripped the handle of his trunk and – with a good-bye wave to his parents – he made his way through the crowds of students towards the Hogwarts Express.

It was more difficult than he thought to heave the trunk up onto his shoulder and lift it up the steps into the train. But somehow, by some miracle, Scorpius managed. Carefully, he dragged it through the narrow halls of the train, searching for a semi-empty compartment. Through the windows of the train, Scorpius could see his parents solemnly watching him. Awkwardly, Scorpius waved and they waved back.

"Do you need a compartment?"

Surprised, Scorpius turned around.

A girl with strawberry-blond hair and blue eyes stood in the doorway of a compartment, smiling at Scorpius..

"Um…" Scorpius stared at her blankly.

Exasperated, the girl rolled her eyes and said, "Do you need a compartment? Do you want to share with us? Do you need me to spell everything out for you?"

A slight scowled crossed Scorpius' face as the girl laughed at her own lame joke. However, Scorpius accepted the invitation and followed her back into the compartment. There was only one other person present, a thin, tall blond boy with an upturned nose.

"Hey," he said, slouching across the compartment seats. "Why'd you invite him in?"

The girl groaned and plopped down into the window seat across from the boy. She addressed Scorpius and said, "Sit down."

Scorpius sat.

"So what's your name?"

"What's yours?"

The boy snorted. "He's a Slytherin, beyond a doubt."

"Isn't that prejudiced?" asked Scorpius wearily.

"My name's Elizabeth Longbottom," said the girl, rolling her eyes. "And that's Zacharias Smith the second. We're both Hufflepuffs."

"The second?"

"Yes," snapped Zacharias. "Because my father is named Zacharias Smith and then I am named Zacharias Smith and since he came before me, he's the first and I'm the second – make sense?"

"I'm not stupid," muttered Scorpius. He turned to Elizabeth and added, "Is he always this annoying?'

"I'm afraid so."

Zacharias' face turned a brilliant shade of red, but all he said was, "You still haven't told us your name."

After a moment's hesitation, he said, "Scorpius Malfoy."

"Ah-ha!" cried Zacharias. "So you _are_ a future Slytherin. I knew it. You have that _look_ and that _air_ about you… My father warned me about you _Slytherins_. Cowardly, pathetic lot. All of you."

"Yeah, yeah…" said Scorpius. "You forgot cunning and deceitful and selfish in there."

"Quit being so stupid," snapped Elizabeth angrily.

"Don't call me stupid!"

Elizabeth slapped Zacharias on the side of his head and glowered at him. He rubbed his scalp wearily and groaned. "You don't have to hit so hard."

"Do you two know each other?" asked Scorpius.

"We're childhood friends," explained Elizabeth. "My mother and his mother were school friends together. Part of the D.A. with Harry Potter, you know."

"No," said Zacharias. "He wouldn't know. His father is _Draco Malfoy_ – the Malfoy family wasn't in the D.A., remember? They were Death Eaters."

Elizabeth shuddered. "What a horrible name, Death Eater – no offense," she added, glancing at Scorpius. "But really, naming a group as Death Eaters is just screaming out 'Hello, world. We're evil!'"

Zacharias snorted. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named must have been drunk when he came up with it."

"Probably."

The journey on the Hogwarts Express continued in a similar fashion. Elizabeth and Zacharias – Zack – continued to bicker constantly and Zack never once missed an opportunity to throw insults at Scorpius and the Malfoy family. Scorpius bore with it, as his parents had taught him to, and just sneered at the comments.

There were, however, some enjoyable moments to the train ride. The Trolley Lady went by and sold candies, which Scorpius helped himself to. After a competition to see who could find the most disgusting flavor of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans (Elizabeth won with rotten eggs), Zack pulled out a deck of cards and the three began a game of Exploding Snap.

"Why am I so awful at this?" asked Elizabeth, brushing the singed strands of hair out of her eyes. "It smells dreadful in here."

Zack opened the compartment door to let the air out. He paused in the corridor and waved at someone. "How're you doing, Al?"

"Al?" Elizabeth got to her feet and staggered out into the corridor. A huge grin crossed her face and she flung her arms around the neck of a scrawny boy with jet-black hair and vibrant green eyes.

Scorpius stared at the boy in horror, for there was no mistaking who stood just outside of the compartment. Albus Severus Potter.

"How are you?" asked Al nervously.

"Good," said Elizabeth. "Aw, little old Al is starting school, huh?"

"Yeah…"

"Where's your compartment?" she asked. "We didn't see you. I was keeping an eye out for Jase, but he must have already found a place. I missed you guys – didn't see you a lot over the summer… We were in Egypt, you know."

"Jase is in the compartments with Robert…" muttered Al. "Rose is there too…"

Elizabeth laughed. "I missed Jase and Robert's shenanigans over the summer."

"Jase…?" asked Zack bemusedly. "Who's that?"

"James Sirius," explained Al. "He prefers to be _original_."

"Where's your compartment?" asked Elizabeth excitedly. "I have to see him! Zack! Come on!" Grabbing Zack by the wrist, she followed Al's directions and raced down the corridor in search of Jase Potter.

Al remained in the corridor, quite stunned at how quickly Elizabeth had left him. Then, suddenly, Al's almond-shaped green eyes fell upon Scorpius' face and he suddenly stiffened. A dark look crossed over Al's eyes and he stared at Scorpius. Scorpius felt a chill run up his spine. But as quickly as the moment had come, it vanished. Al smiled kindly at Scorpius and extended a hand in greeting.

"Hi," he said. "My name's Albus Potter, but everybody calls me Al. And you are?"

"Scorpius Malfoy." He didn't touch Al's extended hand.

"Nice to meet you."

There was an awkward silence as the two boys stared at one another. Scorpius half expected a ball of tumbleweed to come rolling down the corridor.

"Are you not going to take my hand?" asked Al.

"Why should I?"

Al blinked. "Because it's customary to shake someone's hand when they invite you to do so."

"I prefer to avoid custom."

"Are you _trying_ to make an enemy of me?" asked Al incredulously.

Scorpius considered. "Yes, yes, I think I am."

There was a pause, where Al could not think of anything to say and Scorpius did not care to say anything at all. Finally, without a word, Al turned and left, making his way, hopefully, back to his own compartment.

Scorpius barely had time to settle back in his seat when Elizabeth and Zack returned. Elizabeth stared at Scorpius, wide-eyed, and cried, "Did you really call Al a green-eyed faggot?"

"What?"

Zack scowled and plopped back down in his seat. "I told you Slytherins are nothing but bullies."

"I never said any such thing," said Scorpius.

"Don't lie," snapped Zack. "If there's anything worse than a bullying Slytherin, it's a lying Slytherin."

"And there's nothing worse than a moronic Hufflepuff."

Silence filled the compartment. Slowly, Elizabeth lowered herself into the seat beside Zack. "Well," she said. "This was fun."

* * *

><p>Boats. Scorpius had an issue with boats. They rocked and swayed over unfathomable depths of water and Scorpius was sure that sometime soon the boats would tip over and dump him into the lake. As soon as Hagrid had introduced the first years to the concept of boats, Scorpius had an inward mental breakdown. Yes… pampered little Scorpius had never learned to swim.<p>

As the fleet of little boats gliding across the Great Lake's surface, Scorpius clung desperately to the sides to the boat and stared straight ahead at the glimmering lights of Hogwarts. The school was fantastic, Scorpius admitted that, but he was far too concerned with the looming water beneath to care much for the castle.

"Are you alright?" asked a freckly, red head girl (definitely a Weasley).

"Why shouldn't I be?" asked Scorpius stiffly.

The girl hesitated. "You look… pale…"

"I _always_ look pale," snapped Scorpius. "Blame genetics."

"Leave him alone, Rose," said a black-haired girl waspishly (Rose had called her Diane earlier). "You know who he is, don't you?"

"Yes…" said Rose softly. "My father did warn me away from him… He also told me to beat him in every class!" She added the last part with a meek laugh and Diane soon joined it.

"Great…" muttered Scorpius. "I'm famous."

"You could compete with Harry Potter," said the fourth person on the boat (a chubby boy who had identified himself as Terrance Coote).

"Don't say such things!" cried Rose. "H–"

She froze. Her eyes bugged out and she stared in mute horror at the edge of the boat. Slowly, everyone turned to see what she was looking at. At first, Scorpius couldn't see anything. Then, it popped out in front of him… A small, miniscule black spider rested on the rail, its beady black eyes staring at them dauntingly.

"It's a spider…" said Scorpius, rather unimpressed.

"Oh my god! It's a spider!" screamed Rose, leaping to her feet. "Get that wretched thing away from me! Squish it! Destroy it! Ruin it! Kill it! Oh my god! It's a spider! Die! Die! Di – Oh sorry, Scor – Oh my god! Scorpius!"

There was a splash and Scorpius suddenly found himself to be very, very wet.

Water.

Lake water.

Lots of it.

Scorpius couldn't find the bottom. His feet struggled uselessly and his hands squabbled to try and find something to hold on to. He was sinking, lower and lower. The water was sucking him down, down, down into the depths of the Great Lake. And, as he approached death, Scorpius could only think of one thing: Wow, what a great arrival at Hogwarts. Scorpius gets there for a whole ten minutes and he _drowns_ in the bloody Great Lake! What! Dear god, his father was going to kill him.

Something grabbed him.

Right around the waist. Something strong and muscular and slightly slimy.

The water rushed around Scorpius' body and he was lifted upwards with a tremendous force. And then, suddenly, there was air. Scorpius gasped, coughing up the water in his lungs.

The slimy thing dropped Scorpius and he fell, with a crash, into the bottom of the boat.

"Scorpius! Scorpius! Are you alright?"

"Whoa! Was that the Giant Squid!"

Scorpius coughed and a considerable amount of water came spewing from his mouth. Water dripped from his hair and his nose and his vision was blurred. Hands reached for him and Scorpius felt himself being lifted upright. As Rose, Diane, and Terrance all stared at him nervously.

"I'm so sorry, Scorpius! So sorry!" wailed Rose. "I didn't mean to!"

"Giant Squid! It was the G-G-Giant Squid… Squid… Giant… Gianter than a giant squid…"

"Thank you, Terrance," said Scorpius. "I gathered that much."

"Are you alrigh' there?"

Scorpius turned to see the half-giant Hagrid, with his scraggly beard and gigantic moleskin coat, leaning over in his boat to make sure that Scorpius was alive.

Scorpius gritted his chattering teeth and said, darkly, "Perfectly fine. I just felt like taking a little dip."

Rose opened her mouth to say something, but Scorpius silenced her with a glare.

"He did say he needed to cool down a little," added Terrance.

Hagrid shook his head and muttered something about "firs' years" that Scorpius didn't hear and wasn't sure that he wanted to hear.

Bitterly, Scorpius settled back down in his seat, shivering against the cold air. The boats continued to drift along the water towards the castle. As the boats struck shore and Scorpius hurried out as quickly as his scrawny legs could carry him, he assured himself, once again, that he was never ever getting into a boat.

As Hagrid led the group of first years towards the castle, Scorpius muddled himself in with the group, hoping that the mass of bodies would keep him warm. They entered the castle through the massive front doors and came to a halt outside a gigantic doorway. Hagrid slipped through the doors (as much as a half-giant can slip) and left the first years standing outside.

"What's going on?" asked Rose nervously.

"Must be waiting for the Sorting," said Al.

"Look at that! Look at that!"

Everyone spun around at the sound of the kid's voice to see hundreds of pearly, white ghosts rising out of the floor and drifting through the walls. There was a fat one in a monk's attire and a thin, elegant lady with a mournful expression. And then there was a blood-stained baron and a pompous nobleman. Ghosts of all shapes and sizes drifted about, gossiping excitedly at the sight of the first years.

"Look at that one," cried a particular wiry woman. "He's soaking wet."

"Great…" muttered Scorpius. "My fame keeps growing."

Before the ghosts could respond, however, the doors to the Great Hall were pushed open and a tall, solid-built man with brown-blond hair came out, a rather goofy smile plastered across his face.

"Hello, first years!" he said, waving awkwardly. "My name is Professor Neville Longbottom. I'm the Herbology teacher and the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In a few moments you will pass through these doors and be Sorted into your houses – Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. A Sorting Hat will be placed upon you head and will declare the house you belong in. You will then proceed to your table and join your classmates. Understand?"

There was a general nodding amongst the first years as they gazed incredulously at their incredibly cheerful Deputy Headmaster.

"Well then," said Neville. "Let's go."

He opened the doors and led the students into the Great Hall.

Scorpius gawped at the marvels of Hogwart's renown ceiling. It extended upwards, as if it were about to join with the night sky, and thousands of floating candles hovered above the four House tables, illuminating the room. At the very far end of the hall was the teachers' table where the professors sat, watching intently. In the very center of the table sat a squat, wizened old woman in deep. Earthy green robes. That was Professor Sprout, the Headmistress of Hogwarts.

Neville stopped the hoard of first years in front of the teachers' table and, with a wave of his wand, a rugged stool with an equally rugged, black wizard's hat appeared out of thin air.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Neville with a fanciful bow. "I give you… the Hogwart's Sorting Hat."

Neville stepped away from the hat. Silence filled the hall and all the older students gazed at the hat, as if waiting for it to do something. Then, finally, after a good minute of waiting, the hat opened its "mouth" at the brim and said:

"_I am the Hogwarts Sorting hat_

_Old, ugly, and worn I may be_

_And my charming days are far behind me,_

_But great deed I've done in the past_

_And great names I have sorted, first to last._

_So don't underestimate the Hat_

_As I carefully choose your houses_

_Whether you be strong or as timid as mouses_

_I will sort you well and perfectly_

_So listen good and listen determinedly._

_You might belong in Gryffindor_

_Where the brave find their kinsmen_

_And courage out values wisdom._

_Where heroes, both bold and brawn,_

_Have found their valiant hearts drawn._

_Or you might belong in Hufflepuff_

_Where loyalty is surest_

_And hearts, beating fast, are the very purest_

_They live for friendship and loyalty_

_There everyone is accepted rightly._

_And then there's good old Slytherin_

_Where the clever and cunning live._

_Into ambition Slytherins dive_

_Prepared to fight for their own skin_

_And every battle they fight to win_

_Finally, wit brings us to Ravenclaw_

_Where education conquers gold_

_And thought is past from new to old_

_Question upon question Ravenclaws grow_

_And learn until there is nothing left to know _

_And now, I've told you all_

_Of the Hogwarts Four_

_Come here and listen a little more._

_Place me on your bright, young heads_

_And I will tell you where to find your beds._"

Scorpius blinked and stared nervously at the hat. His father and mother had told him plenty of stories about the Hogwarts Sorting Hat. The Hat had barely touched Draco's head before pronouncing him to be a Slytherin and Astoria's Sorting took only ten seconds. Already, Scorpius' heart began to pound as he imagined the Hat declaring him a Gryffindor (his parents would die of shame). Or if the Hat was to suddenly realize that Scorpius was, in fact, a Squib and had no right to be at Hogwarts…

"Applebee, Tamsin."

Neville looked up from his list of names just as a small, trembling brunette made her way to the front of the Great Hall. Quivering, she sat on the rickety stool as Neville placed the Hat on her head. It took about a minute before the Hat declared, "Hufflepuff!" Relief flooded Tamsin's face as she took off the hat and raced across the hall to the Hufflepuff table.

Ryan Belby then became Ravenclaw along with Rebecca Boot and Trevor Carmicheal. Eventually, Terrance Coote (the boy from the boat) was made the first Gryffindor.

Scorpius wrinkled his nose in disgust as Terrance was welcomed by the mob of Gryffindor students. A boy with black hair and bright brown eyes thumped Terrance on the back, guffawing loudly.

"Edgecombe, Paul."

A scrawny boy with ginger hair lowered himself onto the stool. Almost immediately, the Hat cried, "Ravenclaw!"

As Paul raced over to the Ravenclaw table, Neville checked his list and called, "Goyle, Veronica."

Scorpius blinked. A beautiful girl with long, feathery, dark-brown hair waltz up to the stool and daintily seated herself. The Hat barely rested on her head for a second before it cried, "Slytherin!" And a roar rose up from the table on the far end of the hall.

"Macavoy, Heidi!"

As the brunette became a Hufflepuff, Scorpius felt his heart skip a beat. They had reached the Ms and he was next…

"Malfoy, Scorpius!"

His legs felt numb. Already all the eyes of the Great Hall had turned on him, making the oh-so-obvious observation that he, Scorpius Malfoy, was soaking wet. Slowly, begrudgingly, Scorpius made his way to the front of the hall, hoping that his robes weren't dripping too much, and placed himself on the stool.

Neville was staring at Scorpius in surprise. So much surprise, in fact, that he forgot to put the hat on Scorpius' head and the Great Hall was silent for a good two minutes before one of the Professors coughed loudly and Neville was reminded to continue. He placed the old Hat on Scorpius' head and…

"Slytherin!"

Scorpius breathed a sigh of relief. Not even a pause to think about it.

Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin.

If he wasn't a Malfoy, Scorpius might have actually sung with happiness. But of course, Malfoys don't sing. And instead, Scorpius solemnly made his way across the room to the Slytherin table.

"Congratulations, mate," said a thick-headed boy with piggy eyes. "You look relieved."

"What are you talking about?" asked Scorpius stiffly.

"Worried you might end up in Gryffindor?" asked the boy, laughing.

"Hardly."

The boy grinned. "Not bad. I'm Will, by the way, Will Avery. I'm in my third year."

"Scorpius Malfoy."

"I know," said Will. "I heard the Sorting. I've never seen the Hat decide so quickly. The hat touched your head."

Scorpius nodded. "The Goyle girl was pretty quick too."

"Yes, but not as quick." Will hesitated, "By the way… Why are you soaking wet?"

After a brief pause, Scorpius said, "I was hot so I decided to take a dip in the lake. The Giant Squid didn't like it very much though."

After Jessica Nicola became a Gryffindor, John Nott hurried across the room to join the Slytherin table. Scorpius welcomed him with a curt nod, while Will enveloped John in a friendly bear-hug.

"Potter, Albus."

A silence filled the hall, as if a great hush had suddenly filled everyone and they could not have uttered a word if they tried.

Another Potter. Another Potter had come to Hogwarts. As if James Potter wasn't enough, now Albus Severus Potter was here as well. Wasn't Hogwarts just about to _explode_ with excitement?

Scorpius was the only one who regarded Al with some sense of dread. He remembered the moment of darkness that crossed Al's face during the train ride. There was nothing dark in Al's face now. Right now, he just looked plain scared, his green eyes glimmering in the candle light. Carefully, dragging his feet, Albus made his way up to the stool and allowed Neville to place the Hat on his head.

Silence.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Some students must have held their breath as they waited and waited for the Hat to announce its verdict.

"Gryffindor!"

The table erupted into cheers while the Slytherins around Scorpius looked quite irritated. Will leaned over and muttered, "Another Saint Potter. They'll have a whole set of collectables soon enough."

Scorpius nodded curtly.

"What?" asked another Slytherin. "You think the Gryffindors will stuff them and put them in the trophy room just for show?"

Will snickered. "It'd be amusing, don't you think. I'd charge money. Two sickles to glance to the Potter family and four if you want to gawk."

"If I pay six can I take one home with me?"

The two Slytherins erupted into laughter as Malcolm Riggs became a Hufflepuff.

"You don't like the Potters very much," observed John Nott.

Will grinned. "No. Why? Do you?"

John's fingers traced the edge of his goblet as he said, "No. My dad warned me about them. Harry Potter killed You-Know-Who. My father will never forgive him for that."

"Hush," said Will, raising a finger to his lips. "My parents don't like it either, but there's nothing we can do about it."

"I wonder what he was like," hissed John over the Gryffindors' cheers as Ed Spinnet joined their ranks.

"Wonder what who was like?"

"You-Know-Who."

"My parents don't like to talk about him a lot," said Will. "Personal business. Nothing I should concern myself with. But, after what I've heard, he was probably a serious, stern fellow – probably never broke a smile."

"I know," said John. "Charismatic though. A good leader."

Scorpius sighed and turned his attention back to the Sorting just in time to witness Rose Weasley becoming a Gryffindor.

Just like the other Slytherins, Scorpius had never heard his parents talk about Voldemort (yes, Scorpius had no issues saying the name). Astoria had been too young to join the Death Eaters, but Draco had most certainly been one. He had the tattoo to prove it. When he was little, Scorpius used to ask his father about Voldemort all the time. Draco simply never gave an answer.


	3. Two: James' Rant

**Chapter Two: James' Rant**

James Sirius Potter. Have you ever heard of such an uncreative name? James for his grandfather and Sirius for his father's godfather – as you can imagine, it gets very confusing at family reunions where everyone comments on how they miss James and Sirius' jokes. So instead he goes by Jase.

The first day of school was always the most relaxed. Jase woke up at seven and ventured down to the Great Hall for an excellent, filling breakfast. The post then arrived and his tawny barn owl came swooping down to deposit a newspaper in Jase's lap. Between bites of sticky pancakes, he unraveled the paper and began examining the headlines.

"What's new in the world of wizards today?"

Over the top of his paper, Jase glanced up to see the dark skin and dreadlocks of Robert Jordan.

"Mornin'," said Jase groggily.

"So?" said Robert impatiently as he piled sausage, eggs, and bacon onto his plate. "What's the paper say?"

"There's been another murder."

Robert raised his eyebrows quizzically. "Another murder. Part of the chain?"

"This is the third one. Killed in muggle fashion just like the other two."

"What does it say about him?" asked Robert, munching on his bacon heartily. "Thief? Beggar? Murderer? Dark Arts? He's got to have some juice on him? Some skeletons in his closet?"

Jase skimmed through the article. "Nope. None. Says he was a decent guy who does _charity work_."

"So far we have… A lying, deceptive cheapskate and a murderess let free of her crimes. And now we have a _decent guy_. Yep. I can totally see a connection in this case." Robert laughed at his own pathetic joke.

"Maybe the skeletons in his closet are so far back amongst the fur coats that they haven't been discovered yet," said Jase, putting away the newspaper. He and Robert had been following the murders over the summer. The two boys corresponded through letters and discussed the possible connections between the two victims. And now, after a third one pops up, the case becomes even more complicated.

"Let's see," said Robert. "First we have Johan Dedderton. He was a crooked street vendor who sold useless merchandise for outrageous prices. He also picked pockets and was dealing with the wizarding mafia."

"Hooray..." muttered Jase.

"And then we have Freda Ingmar. She was put to trial for the murder of her husband, but was found innocent due to lack of evidence. She went home and continued living with her two children."

"Bang, bang, goes the gun," said Jase. "A cruel and inhumane killing method used by muggles. Wizards are baffled at what to do – how do you stop a _gun_?"

"Doesn't the shield charm work?" asked Robert.

"No idea," said Jase. "Why don't I get a gun, fire it at you, and we'll see if you can block it in time."

"Someone's a grumpy pants today," said Robert. "What's gotten in to you?"

"Nothing…"

That was a lie. Jase knew exactly what had gotten in to him, not that he was about to admit the truth to Robert. Jase's bad week had started yesterday when he was boarding the Hogwarts Express.

It was Albus' first year at Hogwarts and, of course, Al was nervous about the Sorting – what little kid wouldn't be? So, Harry had pulled Al aside and explained kindly to Al that there was nothing wrong with being a Slytherin and the Sorting Hat had even considered putting Harry in Slytherin. Al was, of course, both mortified and delighted by this fact. Immediately comforted by his father's word, Al ran off towards the train, excited for Hogwarts. After overhearing that conversation, however, Jase was less than excited.

When Jase arrived at Platform 9¾ to start his first year at Hogwarts, Jase had been just as nervous, if not more, as Al. Did Harry stop to comfort Jase? No… Instead, Harry kept a firm grip on Al's shoulder and talked with Ron and Hermione. Only Jase's mother had bothered to give him a good-bye hug.

It didn't take a genius to figure out who was Harry Potter's favorite son. Precious, precious Al who was _so_ like his father that it was inconceivable – how could Jase live up to that? He was going to join the Quidditch team and he was top of Charms class and he tried hard not to get in too much trouble, but did Harry ever notice Jase? No… It's all about stupid, little Albus Potter.

Jase closed his eyes and rubbed his temples wearily. He was going to get gray hairs before his time if he kept thinking like that.

"Jase! Jase!"

Someone elbowed Jase in the ribs and he looked up to see what all the fuss was about. Robert rolled his eyes and said, "Schedules have arrived."

The smiling, goofy Neville Longbottom appeared. Dressed in gardening gear, Neville clutches a stack of schedules in his hands and continued to hand them out to the Gryffindor students. "James Potter," said Neville, waving one schedule about. "Come on! I know you prefer to skip classes, but you do need a schedule. Don't make me write home to your parents."

Jase rolled his eyes and got up to take the schedule from Neville. "How many times to I have to tell you to call me Jase instead of James. Can't you just change it on the school register?"

Neville smiled and turned to hand out the next schedule, ignoring Jase's comment completely.

"Do we have the same timetable?" asked Robert, comparing his schedule with Jase's.

"Second years still only have core classes," pointed out Jase. "We have Potions first… Followed by Charms…" Jase turned to Robert and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "We haven't said hello to lovely Professor Chang yet, have we?"

Robert grinned. "Professor Chang, with her beautiful raven hair and brown eyes that sparkle as if they were filled with a thousand diamonds. Have you not seen her smile of perfection and felt you heart melt with satisfaction…"

"What are you two talking about?"

Jase paused at the all too familiar sound of Al's voice. Jase stiffened, but after a moment his expression transformed to a grin and he said, "You haven't met Professor Chang yet, have you Al? Well, let us tell you – she is the reincarnation of the goddess Aphrodite – the pinnacle of beauty in this world."

"She's also _ours_," added Robert. "Keep away from her."

"Or we will hurt you," said Jase.

"Er… right…" said Al slowly.

"Now go run along with you other little first year friends," said Robert. "I'm sure Rose needs a study buddy sometime soon."

Al scowled, but scuttled away to join the rest of his class. Once he was out of ear shot, Jase and Robert returned to their schedule examining.

"So after Charms with the lovely Professor Chang," said Robert. "We have Transfiguration. And then History of Magic… And end the day with double Defense Against the Dark Arts. No Herbology until Tuesday afternoon."

"I bet Professor Longbottom will be happy," said Jase, grinning.

"Extremely. Professor Macmillan, on the other hand…"

The two boys laughed and, gathering up their bags, made their way from the Great Hall to the dungeons. As tradition had been for many generations, Gryffindors always had potions with the Slytherins. So, when Jase and Robert arrived in the dungeons, they found themselves surrounded by a group of scowling Slytherin students.

"Hey, Jase! Robert!"

The two glanced over to see Kelly Kirke and Joanne Mirfield sitting down at the far end of the room. Jase and Robert, hurried over, determined not to be stuck in a seat surrounded by Slytherins.

"How was your summer?" asked Kelly. Her attention was pointedly on Robert, whom Jase knew to be Kelly's long-time crush.

"Good," said Robert. "My family went to Italy for a month."

"That sounds amazing!" cried Kelly. "My family just stayed at home…"

"You come from a muggle family, don't you?" said Robert thoughtfully.

Nervously, Kelly nodded. "Yes. And you're… Half-blood, right? Or something along those lines. It gets so confusing nowadays."

Robert laughed. "Part-blood. My dad was a half-blood but my mother was a mugggleborn. So technically I'm one-fourth-blood – but no one keeps track of that."

"And I'm three-fourths-blood," said Jase. "Hey, Robert! Together we make a pure blood wizard!"

Robert laughed and turned to grin at the girls. "Sorry, but Jase and I are switching to Slytherin now that we've discovered our pure-blood status. See you later, Gryffindor swine."

Jase's doubled over with laughter and Robert thumped him on the back to keep Jase from choking. Kelly and Joanne exchanged glowing smiles, but before they could respond, the door to the dungeon opened and Professor Ernie Macmillan came storming in.

"Hello," said Ernie. "I trust you all had good summers."

There came a scattered chorus of "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, take out your books and we'll begin."

Ernie's classes were always the same. He drilled students to the very end of the lesson and was not hesitant to punish those who did not pay attention. Today, Ernie was starting the class off with a very simple sleeping draught. While Kelly and Joanne started on their potion, Robert and Jase gathered around their own cauldron and began concocting.

"Didn't we make this last year?" asked Robert as he flipped unenthusiastically through the pages of his textbook.

"Yes," said Jase. He hurried over to the ingredients cupboard along with the rest of the students. When he returned, he added, "It is the start of a new school year. Of course Professor Macmillan will revise potions with us."

"Yeah, yeah… But it's so boring…"

Jase rolled his eyes and he began to slice up the ingredients. "Are you thinking dungbombs?"

"Do you have some on you?" asked Robert in an undertone.

"Of course," said Jase. "A present from Uncle George. Mom's right – he really is a bad influence on me."

"But we like bad influences," said Robert.

Jase carefully slipped the dungbombs into Robert's hands and, while no one was looking, Robert rolled the dungbombs along the floor of the dungeon until it came to rest underneath one of the Slytherin's cauldron.

"Three… Two… One…"

The bomb exploded.

Filthy dung sprayed into the faces to the nearby Slytherins and a putrid odor filled the room. Students rushed away from their cauldron's trying to find and escape from the dreadful smell. Robert and Jase tried to conceal their laughter as they followed Kelly and Joanne up the stairs and out of the dungeon. Soon, the entire class stood out in the corridor and a very disgruntled and _not amused_ Ernie stood before them.

"Jordan, Potter, detention," said Ernie. "How dare you disrupt the class."

"How could you just assume it was us!" cried Jase. "It could just as easily be a Slytherin."

"Because it's you," said Ernie darkly. "No one else could be that stupid on their first day of school. Detention! And the entire class is going to march right back into that dungeon and finish their potions even in that wretched stink."

The students groaned and the two culprits received irritable glares from their fellow classmates. Everyone returned to the dungeons, trying hard not to breathe in through their noses, and continued their classwork while Ernie attempted to get rid of the smell.

* * *

><p>Cho Chang. Born in 1979. Attended Hogwarts from 1990 to 1997. Of Asian decent. Head of Ravenclaw House. Teaches Charms. And extremely beautiful. Yep. Cho Chang was going to be Jase's future wife. He knew it. There was no one more beautiful or more splendid or well fitted to Jase besides Cho Chang. So, there happened to be a thirty-six year age gap between them – they can work around that.<p>

"Good morning, Professor Chang!" cried Robert, waving at her enthusiastically as he took a seat on the Gryffindor side of the Charms classroom.

"Good morning, Mr. Jordan," said Cho, smiling. "And you too, Mr. Potter."

"How many times must I tell you to call me Jase?"

Robert smacked Jase on the shoulder and turned back to Cho with a soppy smile plastered across his face. "How was your summer, Professor?"

"Excellent. How about yours? And, um, Mr. Jordan… Try not to hit Mr. Potter too hard. I don't want to have to send him to the Hospital Wing…"

"Aw," Jase cried. "You look so radiant when you're concern, Cho."

"Mr. Potter," said Cho warningly. "I am your Professor, please address me as such."

Robert hit Jase again and said, "You haven't answered my question yet. How was your summer, _Professor_? Did you have fun? Go to the beach? How about a cruise? Or something more romantic…"

"I wouldn't mind seeing _Professor Chang_ on the beach with a bathing suit," said Jase eagerly.

Cho sighed and shook her head. The rest of the class had arrived and were listening with faint amusement to Cho's conversation with the boys. It was no secret that Robert Jordan and Jase Potter were madly in love with Cho Chang. After their singing love confessions last Valentine's Day, the school treated their love more as a joke than anything else.

However, Jase and Robert were quite serious. They put a lot of devotion into their love, even going as far as to practice Charms outside of class requirements. The boys would actually look ahead in the textbook and learn material they had not covered yet just to impress Cho. They sent her Christmas gifts and Valentine's Day cards – and even sent her birthday presents even though her birthday was over the summer.

Of course, there were downsides to this love. Since Jase and Robert had already mastered most of the textbook, when it came to class lectures they were bored. So, instead, they occupied their time by gazing longingly at Cho and imaging their futures if they were to ever marry her (neither of them had seemed to realize that if one of them married Cho, the other couldn't).

"Isn't she simply divine?" asked Jase.

"Flawless…" said Robert, nodding dreamily.

"Imagine the wedding," whispered Jase. "Her – in her long flowing white train and stunning, sparkling wedding dress – walking down the aisle and me…standing at the end of aisle, smiling and grinning."

"You would be the best man, of course," said Robert. "And when she reached the send of the aisle, I would sweep her up into my arms and turn around…"

"And we would be pronounced husband and wife…"

BANG!

Robert and Jase jumped out of their stupor and looked around wildly.

On the other side of the classroom where the Ravenclaws usually sat, a cloud of smoke billowed up towards the ceiling and a small, brown haired girl remained at her desk, her face blackened and her hair smoldering.

Cho sighed and folded her arm wearily. "Miss Finnigan – please don't tell me you somehow managed to blow up your textbook again."

Bridget Finnigan (the daughter of Seamus Finnigan and Katie Bell – good friends of Jase's dad) smiled meekly and said, "I guess I inherited my father's ability for pyrotechnics…"

"You may go clean up," said Cho and Bridget quickly left, leaving a cloud of smoke and ash in her wake.

But Bridget had barely been gone two minutes before the bell rang to mark the end of class. The rest of the students packed up quickly and made their way off to their next class. Robert and Jase lingered back, waiting until everyone was gone before wheedling their way up to Cho's desk.

"What do you want now?" asked Cho fondly.

"Well, you see…" said Jase slowly.

"We got into a spot of trouble this morning with Professor Macmillan…"

"It wasn't really our fault," explained Jase. "Well… It was… But he has no proof! He just assumed it was us because he's prejudice."

Cho smiled. "He has no proof but he thinks it was you and it was you…"

"But we don't deserve a detention for something he doesn't have proof of," explained Jase and Robert nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"So what do you want me to do about it?" asked Cho. "Ernie has every right to give you a detention."

"Yes…" said Robert.

"But, you see," said Jase. "We were hoping you could volunteer to manage our detention. We rather like you – you aren't as scary as the other teachers – and we're more than happy to help you with anything!"

Cho let out a little laugh (which both Jase and Robert thought was absolutely _charming_) and said, "Well…"

"Please," said Robert. "It's our first day back – it won't happen again… We promise."

Cho sighed. "Alright."

"Thank you!" cried Jase. "Thank you… _Professor Chang_!"

She laughed as the two boys grabbed their things and hurried off in the direction of the Transfiguration classroom. Just as they were passing the Defense Against the Dark Arts hall, they bumped into a group of Gryffindor first years, among which was Albus Potter.

"Hey, Jase!" cried Al, waving enthusiastically.

Jase debated pretending as if he hadn't heard Al, but eventually Jase turned around and grinned. "What's up, Al? Having a good first day?"

"The best! Though they give us _tons_ of homework!"

Robert nodded. "They tend to do that. It cools down after awhile, but the teachers like to be intimidating on the first day."

Al nodded. "Oh! Jase! Guess what!"

Jase resisted the urge to groan. He had the feeling he wasn't going to like whatever "what" was.

"Hagrid invited me down to his hut for lunch!" exclaimed Al. "Isn't that great! Isn't Hagrid so nice – I mean, Professor Hagrid. Dad's taught me some bad habits. But did Professor Hagrid ever invite you to his cabin for lunch?"

Yep. Jase didn't like "what". Again, here came the favoritism that Jase was accustomed to. Not only did Harry comfort Al at the train station, but Hagrid also invited Al to his cabin for lunch. Did Hagrid ever do that for Jase?

"No…"

"Oh…" Al's smiled faltered a little and then came back again just as quickly. "Well that's too bad." And with that, Al hurried off to Defense Against the Dark Arts, leaving a confused Robert and a disgruntled Jase alone in the corridor.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: REVIEW! Please review! You have no idea how happy it makes me to see reviews! **


	4. Three: Ginny's Rant

**Chapter Three: Ginny's Rant**

Alright. Today is all about Ginny. Ginny is _finally_ going to get her screen time. Harry Potter is not the star of the show. The Golden Trio is not the highlight of the news. Today is Ginny's Day. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. All about Ginny.

With a sigh, Ginny Potter ran her fingers through her hair and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Skin-tight jeans, a flashy red-top, and dazzling accessories – everything Ginny wore was top class, top notch, and highly _noticeable_. So why did half the world forget her name? Or, more accurately, why did half the world forget her first name? The Potter part was easy to remember.

"Mum…"

Ginny twisted her head towards the doorway to see her adorable daughter standing there, yawning and still dressed in her pajamas.

"Good morning, Lily," said Ginny, forcing a smile. "Did you have a good sleep?"

Lily nodded. "I'm hungry."

"Alright. You go get a shower and get dressed and Mum will make you some breakfast."

A smile crossed Lily's face and she nodded enthusiastically. "I want a buttered crumpet!"

"Whatever you want."

Lily sprinted down the hallway and Ginny made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. She was rather proud of her house. It was several steps up from the rundown Burrow, but also not as fancy as Malfoy Manor. The house showed wealth and pride, but was not show-offish. Two stories with six bedrooms and a plenty of kitchen space, Ginny was quite pleased. She even got her own study.

As she reached the bottom of the staircase, Ginny heard voices. She paused and looked over to her right in the direction of the sitting room.

"…last night…"

"That was…call…lucky…"

"You two…crazy…"

Ginny moved towards the sitting room and, as she drew closer, it revealed the faces of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They all sat in different chairs, leaning forward and talking under their breaths as if they held some great secret. Despite her greeting, none of the noticed as Ginny came to a halt in the doorway.

The years had done well for Hermione and, if at all possible, she had grown even more beautiful with age. She had finally learned to use product on her hair and much of the bushiness had gone away. Instead, Hermione wore it in a neat bun and dressed herself well. At work, Hermione donned herself in dress-pants and a blouse, but for casual attire she simply wore jeans and a designer shirt – the kind that Ginny envied.

Ron, on the other hand, had gone backwards in middle-age. He had started to develop a bald spot (which he was very sensitive about) and had wrinkle lines all across his face. Of course, that had done little to alter his excessive humor and lack of common sense.

And then there was Harry. Ginny smiled fondly at the sight of her husband. The same messy black hair, the same almond-shaped green eyes, the same lightning-bolt scar, and the same warm smile – he was still the exact same Harry that she had fallen in love with all those years ago…

Suddenly, as if there were a sensor in the back of his head, Harry turned and glanced in the direction of the doorway. He caught sight of Ginny and smiled. She smiled back and he returned to his conversation with Ron and Hermione. Neither of them had noticed Ginny yet.

With a slightly lighter heart, Ginny made her way to the kitchen and began preparing crumpets for Lily. She also put the kettle on to make herself – and Harry – some tea.

Harry must be tired, Ginny reminded herself. He had been out late last night and hadn't gotten home until three or four in the morning. Ginny had stayed up all night waiting for him to get home. She had fallen asleep on the couch several times before jerking herself awake. How many cups of tea had she consumed? Five or six? Seven? It was hard to tell.

"Oh, Ginny, You're up."

Hermione stood in the doorway of the kitchen, smiling. She embraced Ginny warmly and then proceeded to the cupboard to pull out a tea pot and several cups.

"What are you doing?" asked Ginny. "And I've been up for awhile."

"I'm making some tea for us. Really? I didn't notice. Why didn't you stop by and say hi?"

"It's alright, Hermione," said Ginny. "I'm making tea. I'll bring it out to you when the water is done boiling."

"I'm fine," said Hermione. "The boys are talking about Quidditch now anyways."

"World Cup must be coming up soon," said Ginny thoughtfully.

"Oh right," said Hermione. "You're a Quidditch nut too."

"Well… I did play for the Hollyhead Harpies for a few years… I count that as being a Quidditch nut – don't you?"

Hermione smiled. "Of course."

"How is Hugo?" asked Ginny. "Is he enjoying his first day without Rose. Or is he miserable?"

"Miserable," said Hermione. "I was going to bring him over here to play with Lily, but he was still in bed when I left. Molly is taking care of him for now. She's always willing to be a last minute babysitter."

Ginny nodded. "I know what you mean…"

There was a pause and the kettle started to whistle. Ginny reached for it, but Hermione beat her to it and started to pour the hot water into the tea pot. When the tea pot was full, Hermione put the kettle back onto the stove and began preparing the tea. Ginny reached for the kettle to make her own cup of tea when she realized that the kettle was empty and she had to refill it.

As she put the kettle back on the stove and began heating the water, Ginny turned back to Hermione and asked, "Was Ron out late last night too?"

"No," said Hermione quickly. A little _too_ quickly.

Before Ginny could ask any more, Hermione picked up the tray containing the tea pot and cups and made her way back out to the sitting room. Ginny remained in the kitchen, watching Hermione's retreating back until it was out of sight. Then, Ginny turned around and continued to prepare her daughter's crumpets.

Lily came down soon after that and took her seat at the dinner table (the one to the immediate left of the head of the table – Lily was very protective of _her_ seat). Ginny placed the plate of crumpets and a glass of orange juice in front of Lily and Lily eagerly started to devour her breakfast. Ginny sat down opposite her daughter and carefully sipped her mug of tea.

"Why can't I go to Hogwarts?" asked Lily for umpteenth time.

"Eat your breakfast."

"Mum. Why can't I go? It's lonely here without Al and Jase."

The corner's of Ginny's mouth twitched upwards at the use of Jase's self-created nickname. Ginny had warned Harry not to use his parents' names… And now Jase renounced them entirely, declaring himself to be too _original_ for such names.

"Mum…"

"Lily… Wait. It'll be your turn soon."

"In _two years_," exclaimed Lily. "That's hardly soon."

"If I hear you say one more word about wanted to go to Hogwarts, Lily, I won't let you. You'll stay at home the whole seven years and help me do chores."

That shut Lily up. She sat in silence, munching on her crumpets between sips of orange juice. Finally, she asked, "You're awfully grouchy today. Mum."

"I know, dear," said Ginny. "I stayed up late last night…"

"How late?"

"Late-late. The kind of late that you only dream of."

Lily concerned this. "Like midnight late?"

A smile crossed Ginny's face and she took a quick draught of her tea before saying, "Yeah, something like that."

"Do you have work today?" asked Lily.

"Not today," said Ginny. "I'm taking a day off today and so is your father. We need some time to relax after unloading ourselves of your brothers."

Lily smiled. "Will you come play with me then?"

"Play what?"

"Dolls!"

Lily's eyes lit up, a brilliant hazel-color that mirrored her mother's, and she leaned forward eagerly, awaiting her mother's reply. Unable to deny her daughter, Ginny agreed and Lily raced upstairs to set up the dollhouse. For a moment, Ginny remained at the table. Then, after finishing off her tea, Ginny got to her feet and began making her way upstairs to the play room.

Ginny paused at the bottom of the stairs and glanced over in the direction of the Sitting Room. There, still in the same positions as earlier, Harry, Ron, and Hermione continued talking in their hushed voice, now bent of a copy of today's Daily Prophet. m

* * *

><p><strong>AN: After seeing the final Harry Potter movies, I was mortified with the lack of screen time Ginny got. So, I decided she shall be one of the main characters in this story and finally get the screen time she deserves. **

**REVIEW! It takes you a whole two seconds, but it makes me extremely happy!**


	5. Four: Scorpius' Rant

******A/N: Wow, I haven't updated in awhile, but I had a sudden craving to do so. I really like the idea for this story, but I wish it had more reviews. Oh well. Voldemort FINALLY comes into the story. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four: Scorpius' Rant<strong>

Mealtimes in the Great Hall were always impressive. If there was one thing to like about Hogwarts it was the food. Plates of sandwiches, bowls of salads, mountains for fruit, and platters of deserts – there was nothing not to love… Well, if you were to ask Scorpius Malfoy there was one thing not so enjoyable: the company.

"I can't believe the amount of homework they gave us! Can you, Scorpius? It's like they plan to murder us by stuffing our brains too full and causing them to explode on the first week of school!"

"I'm sure if they planned on murdering us the teachers would find a more humane method," said Scorpius dully.

Diane Rookwood, his fellow Slytherin first year, giggled and said, "You never know. They could be like the murderer and use disgusting muggle methods."

Scorpius neither knew nor cared what Diane was talking about. Instead, he took another sandwich from the pile and helped himself, using it as an excuse not to talk. Of course, that wouldn't stop Diane.

"What's your favorite class so far? Mine's got to be Herbology. I mean, the professor is a little annoying, but the class itself is interesting. Oh! And then there's Potions. That's enjoyable. I heard that third years get to take Care of Magical Creatures – isn't that not fair? I want to take that class, but of course _first years _aren't allowed."

"Diane."

She stopped mid speech and turned to stare attentively at Scorpius. "Yes?"

"Shut up."

She blinked. "What?"

"I have a massive headache already today and you're not helping." Scorpius finished his sandwich and reached for another.

Diane was too affronted to say anything else and Scorpius took advantage of this opportunity to find someone else to start a conversation with. He turned immediately to the person on his left and said, "Have you done the Defense Against the Dark Arts homework yet?"

The person who happened to be sitting next to Scorpius flicked her long mahogany hair over her shoulder and said, "Of course. Have you?"

Veronica Goyle. Great… If Scorpius had known, he probably would have stuck with talking to Diane.

"Yes," said Scorpius. "It was easy."

"_I_ didn't think it was that easy," cut in Diane. "It took me hours to finish."

"Well then you're stupid, aren't you?" said Veronica.

Diane scowled. "No. It was just an extremely difficult essay. I know for a fact that some of the Ravenclaws had trouble with it."

"In that case," said Veronica. "The Ravenclaws aren't a very impressive bunch this year."

"That's not true! I know for a fact some of them are highly intelligent."

"Compared to you."

Scorpius took another bite of his sandwich and tried to remember what class he had next. Was it Potions… or Charms…? HE could always look it up on his timetable later.

"Well we can't all be little perfect daddy's girls now can we," snapped Diane. "Have you even had to work hard a day in your life – or are you just living off of your daddy's money."

Veronica glared. "Oh yeah, because you and your daddy are so ideal. Did my daddy get caught for underhand dealing during a business arrangement? _No_, what did my dad get busted for? Oh, that's right – _nothing_."

"Obviously your dad is a better _cheat_ than my dad."

"Like my dad is intelligent enough to cheat!" cried Veronica. "He runs an ice cream shop in Diagon Alley! That hardly requires a lot of smarts."

"You know," said Scorpius. "I really do have to finish that Potions essay."

"Oh yeah, I forgot," snarled Diane. "An _ice cream shop_."

Neither girls noticed as Scorpius grabbed his bag and left the Great Hall. It was a relief once he was free of them. Of course, Scorpius didn't actually have to work on his Potions essay and now he found himself wandering around aimlessly with no where to go. So, Scorpius decided to take a break to the bathroom where he might actually find some peace.

The boys' bathroom on the third floor was disgusting. Scorpius took one step inside and almost turned around. Toilet paper was everywhere. Draped over the sinks and across the stalls and over the floor – the entire bathroom was toilet paper wonderland.

"What the bloody hell happened here?" muttered Scorpius.

"Jase Potter and Robert Jordan."

Scorpius jumped. A girls voice came from behind him and, startled, he turned to see who it was (hopefully Diane hadn't followed him all the way here). However, it was a pearly-white, translucent girl – a ghost – floating in the doorway of the bathroom. She had long hair that was pulled into two pigtails and spectacles rested on the arch of her nose as she gazed at Scorpius somewhat…._dreamily_.

"Um… This is the boys' bathroom," said Scorpius stiffly.

"I know," said the girl, giggling. "I close my eyes."

"That's good to, um, know."

She drifted off the ground, soaring up towards the ceiling far above Scorpius' head. He craned his neck, trying to keep sight of her and watched as she plopped herself down on top of one of the toilet stalls. "I'm Myrtle. You look familiar."

"Do I?" asked Scorpius making his way over to the sink.

"How long have you been at Hogwarts?"

"This is my first year," said Scorpius, washing his hands. "So unless you spy on me while I'm sleeping, you wouldn't know me."

"Oh." Myrtle looked confused. Then, she said, "Aren't you going to ask me how I died?"

Scorpius shot her a puzzled glance. "Why do I care?"

"Well, most people like to ask a ghost how she died. Even I get curious sometimes." Myrtle giggled delightedly.

"You get curious as to how you died?" asked Scorpius, turning on the tap and washing his hands. "You of all people should know how you died."

Myrtle shook her head and drifted down to hover by the sink. "_I_ know how I died. I meant I get curious about how _other_ ghosts have died. Are you making fun of me?" asked Myrtle crossly.

Scorpius turned off the tap and started making his way towards the door. "No. I really don't care to make fun of people."

"Wait!" Myrtle flew in front of the exit, spreading her arms out as if to prevent Scorpius from leaving. However, he walked right through her, ignoring the rush of bitter cold, and continued out towards the corridor.

"Wait!" repeated Myrtle. "I know who you look like! You look like Draco! Draco Malfoy!"

Scorpius paused. Keeping his back distinctively turned to Myrtle, he said, "Yes. Draco Malfoy is my father."

Myrtle let out a sequel of delight. "I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! I knew I recognized you! You're the spitting image of your father!"

Scorpius carried on walking down the corridor, but before he could far, Myrtle came buzzing after him, screaming at him to stop. Reluctantly, Scorpius came to a halt and wearily turned to Myrtle. "Can I help you?"

"I want to show you something!" exclaimed Myrtle. "But you and only you." She lowered her voice and added, "It's a secret."

"No thanks."

Scorpius began walking again, but Myrtle tried to grab him and ended up racing through him. A shiver ran down Scorpius' spine and he froze in place. Myrtle regained herself and rounded on Scorpius' her eyes glowing in triumph.

"Listen to me!" she cried. "I have something to show you – you won't regret it! I promise you!" And then, in an undertone, she muttered, "You're not much like your father. He was _sensitive_."

Scorpius decided to ignore her comment. "I have classes to go to."

Myrtle lower lip started to tremble. "I'll scream. I'll follow you to every class and scream in your ear. ! I'll drive you insane if you don't come with me. And I'll mope and I'll moan and you won't learn a thing and everyone will stare and whispering things about the Malfoy boy and his stalker _miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle_." And with that, she burst into tears.

"It's rather stupid to make yourself cry," said Scorpius.

She carried on sobbing.

Scorpius glanced around the hallway, searching for help, but there was no one around. Finally, Scorpius sighed heavily and said, "Alright. Show me."

Almost instantaneously, Myrtle's tears dried up and she let out a whoop of delight. She did a little back flip in the air and cried, "Follow me! Follow me!" She floated away down the corridor, expecting Scorpius to come running after her. When he didn't she circle back and goaded him along.

She led him down the hallway and turned right until, at last, they reached their destination – the girls' bathroom.

"Myrtle…" said Scorpius slowly. "In case you haven't noticed… I'm a _boy_."

"I noticed," said Myrtle, giggling.

"I can't go in there."

"Don't worry," said Myrtle. "No one ever goes in. All the girls' are afraid they'll have to _meet_ me." Myrtle sniffled at this dreadful face and then plunged into the door, sobbing at the top of her lungs.

The moment she had disappeared from view, Scorpius turned around and started heading for class. He had barely gotten two meters away before Myrtle remerged from the bathroom, completely recovered from her crying fit, and raced after Scorpius.

"Come on! Come on!" she cried. "We're almost there!"

Scorpius sighed, but rather than have Myrtle float through him again, he followed her into the girls' bathroom. The bathroom looked very much like the boys with the same layout. Comfortable in her usual setting, Myrtle drifted over to one of the sinks and sat on top of it, grinning smugly at Scorpius. When he grudgingly made his was over to stand beside her, Myrtle said, "Are you ready?"

"Sure."

And then Myrtle said something. Something Scorpius was not expecting… She said something in a language that he did not understand. The language involved a lot of hissing and spitting.

"What was that?" asked Scorpius.

Myrtle smiled smugly. "Wait and see."

And then the sinks started shifting. The one that Myrtle was sitting on sunk down until it disappeared beneath the ground and the other sinks moved out of the way to reveal a tunnel, descending beneath the floor to somewhere far beyond.

Scorpius stared.

"Impressed?" asked Myrtle. "You know you're impressed."

"Not really," said Scorpius. "Malfoy Manor has more impressive secret passageways."

Myrtle sighed. "Jump."

"I would prefer not to."

"You won't get to see the secret if you don't jump," pointed out Myrtle. "The secret it _down_ the passageway."

"Are you not going to tell me what language you were speaking?" asked Scorpius.

"Will you jump if I tell you?"

Scorpius hesitated for a moment and then nodded.

Myrtle let out a squeal of delight and cried, "Parseltongue! Now Jump! Jump!"

Reluctantly, Scorpius turned to regard the tunnel below him. He couldn't see more than a few feet down, beyond that there was only darkness. With a dejected sigh, Scorpius jumped.

Immediately, he was met by concrete and gravity. He rushed down the tunnel as if it were a slide. The tunnel was too deep to see where he was going and he was thrown this way and that with no clue where he was headed. The concrete grated against his skin and wind rushed through his hair – and then, suddenly, Scorpius found himself deposited on the ground with a _crunch_.

"Ow."

Rubbing his back, Scorpius sat up. He was in an underground chamber. Slimy walls made of stone arched over him, forming a ceiling several meters above his head. And then, around him, was the massive form of a snake's skin. The skin was broken in several places and was years old, but still resembled the frail skin. But that, of course, was not the worst part. When Scorpius looked down, he found himself kneeling in a pile of bones.

"Someone needs a House Elf."

A giggle of delight echoed around the chamber and, to no one's surprise, Myrtle was to be seen floating around the ceiling. She beamed and Scorpius and said, "Impressed?"

"Unless you count 'impressed by the serious lack of cleaning' as impressed…no. I'm not."

"You're hard to please," said Myrtle. She drifted along over the snake skin, smiling. "Come this way. We're not done yet."

Scorpius sighed and glanced back at the tunnel which had dumped him here. "I supposed there's no way back up without your help, is there?"

"Nope."

"Lead the way."

Myrtle gleefully guided Scorpius through the passage ways. She knew exactly where she was going though, every once in awhile, she would lead Scorpius in the wrong direction just for her own amusement. Eventually, after a good hour of wandering though the underground passageways, Scorpius found himself face-to-face with a giant round door engraved with the images of snakes.

"Where are we…?" said Scorpius slowly.

Once again, Myrtle opened her mouth and let out a series of hissing noises. The door clicked and the image of a snake circled around the edges. Slowly, the door slid opened revealing the way into a gigantic chamber. Myrtle led Scorpius inside and the boy found himself standing at the beginning of an endless hall with stone snakes rising out of a pool of water on either side. At the far end of the chamber was the enormous head of a bearded man towering over the bones of a gigantic snake.

"Welcome," said Myrtle. "To the Chamber of Secrets."

Scorpius snorted. "The _Chamber of Secrets_. Couldn't have come up with a better name for it?"

Myrtle rolled her eyes and drifted past Scorpius' head. "I didn't name it. Are you still not impressed?"

"No. How did you learn parseltongue?"

A smile crossed Myrtle's face and, slowly, she raised a hand. Her finger pointed to somewhere behind Scorpius and she said, "He taught me."

Scorpius whipped around, trying to see who was there. A translucent face with snake-like eyes and slits for nostrils, the man's bald head strongly resembled a serpent. His arms were folded across his chest, but beyond that his body disappeared into a wispy tail. Scorpius' heart froze. There was an aura about the ghost, filled with menace and radiating _evil_. Destruction and chaos rippled around him, sending chills down Scorpius' spine.

"Who are you…?" whispered Scorpius, but, before he said it, he already knew the answer.

"I am Lord Voldemort."

Scorpius tried to run, but his foot caught in the hem of his robe and he fell flat on his face.

He lay there, unmoving, waiting for Voldemort to finish him off. But instead of the killing curse that Scorpius' expected, he was greeted by a chorus of guffaws.

What?

Slowly, Scorpius rolled over onto his back and gazed up at the ghost of Lord Voldemort. A huge grin cross Voldemort's face and – bent over with fits of laughter – Voldemort cried, "You should have seen your face! You looked ready to wet yourself!"

Stare. Stare. Stare.

"What?"

"Myrtle… Myrtle…" cried Voldemort, still trying to contain himself. "Did you… see… I think I'm about to die from laughing too hard… Oh wait! I'm already dead!" And with that Voldemort's laughter doubled and he did a summersault in the air, shrieking with mirth.

"Is it just me or is there something seriously wrong with this picture?" asked Scorpius.

"Like what?" asked Voldemort.

"Er – aren't you supposed to be the most evil wizard of all time…"

Voldemort laughed. "Me? Evil? Where did you hear that? Wait! Let me guess – _Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore told you so_!"

Scorpius stared, unable to find the right words.

"Tell him! Tell him!" cried Myrtle, hovering behind Voldemort. "You have to tell him the whole story. Right from the beginning – otherwise he won't understand you."

"No one understand me," said Voldemort. "The entire wizarding world hates me and supports that _precious_ _Harry Potter_. Do they know what I sacrificed to save them from the most evil wizard of all time – _I turned into this_!" Voldemort pointed at his face. "Do you have nay idea how traumatizing it was to turn into… into this!"

"Um…"

"That's what I thought."

Myrtle then applauded Voldemort and wiped a tear from her eye. "So moving. So moving. You choke me up every time you tell your story."

Scorpius started to edge towards the door.

"I know," said Voldemort. "And you bring tears to my eyes whenever you mention your tragic death. If I only I could have saved you. But Dumbledore…"

"Don't mention it!" cried Myrtle. "I forgive you! How were you to know?"

Scorpius was almost to the door…

"Wait!" cried Voldemort, catching sight of Scorpius' escape. "Where do you think you're going!"

"Er… I have to attend classes," explained Scorpius. "I've already missed two…"

"But you have to hear my story!" Voldemort grabbed Scorpius by the hands. "You have to hear it."

Scorpius glanced at his arms, where Voldemort has fastened his hands. Then, Scorpius raised his eyes to stare at Voldemort in horror. "How can you do that? You're a ghost…"

"Correction," said Voldemort, releasing Scorpius. "I am a Wisp. Like a Will-o-the-Wisp – except without the will part. I'm just a Wisp."

"Um…"

"I split my soul into seven pieces," said Voldemort flatly. "Do you _really_ think I wouldn't have a back-up plan?"


	6. Five: Voldemort's Rant

**A/N: I love my version of Voldemort. Yes, it completely butchers JK's character (sorry, JK) but I pity the black-and-white version of Voldemort she created. I never really understood why he became so evil- being an orphan is not cause enough to destroy the wizarding world as we know it. Anyways, Voldemort will tell his story in bits and pieces throughout the first book. Childhood here we come!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five: Voldemort's Rant<strong>

Alright, I admit it. I was a bully as a child. I stole things and I tormented my fellow orphans at times. I admit it – and I accept it. But you know what? When Dumbledore showed up in my orphanage and told me that thievery was not accepted, I listened. I reformed and became a model student. Which is more than Dumbledore can say.

I attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry like any other magical boy my age. Thanks to my bloodline, I was sorted into Slytherin almost the moment the Hat touched my head. And, while that put more of the teachers and students against me, I soon showed them that prejudices were wrong and even Slytherin boys can be good, modest students.

I won't deny that I was exceptionally handsome and talented. Why, even the teachers envied me… _Especially _the teachers envied me… Or more, it was one teacher in particular who saw my skills and knew – he just _knew_ – that I would be a threat to his future.

Dumbledore hated me.

With a passion that I never could understand and for reasons that seemed unheard of, Dumbledore hated me. Even to this day I still do not fully comprehend his loathing of me, but I assume it had something to do with my abilities. Perhaps not, perhaps Dumbledore just didn't like Slytherins and took his anger out on me. Or perhaps he was jealous. Or perhaps, it was just a natural feeling of hatred. I don't know and, since Dumbledore is long dead, I doubt I shall ever know. But, needless to say, he hated me. And that was a fact that would haunt my school years.

Thankfully, Dumbledore was not Headmaster during those times or he might have actually expelled me. He didn't and the only thing he had power over was House points, detentions, and my Transfiguration grade. But, since the vast majority of the school adored me, there was little Dumbledore could do to hinder my education.

During the first five years at Hogwarts, I simply saw Dumbledore as a nasty teacher. Nothing more and nothing less. It wasn't until I was fifteen and Dumbledore revealed to me the true horror of his being that I began to see him as the abomination that he really was.

This story, however, begins in my second year when I met Cassidy.

I already knew of my ability to talk to snakes and, when my closest friend at Hogwarts (a Gryffindor by the name of Rubeus Hagrid) told me that Salazar Slytherin could speak to snakes, I discovered that Chamber of Secrets.

Cassidy was _wonderful_.

I mean, sure, she was a gigantic basilisk with the ability to kill people – but she would never harm a soul unless I told her too. She was more than happy to spend her days in the Chamber of Secrets as long as I would visit her once or twice a week and talk to her.

I had many joyous conversations with Cassidy during my stay at Hogwarts, but, of course, I should have known that it was too good to last.

Dumbledore – the root of all my troubles – decided he wanted to know what I was up to. He knew that I disappeared from time to time and he just had to know where. So, some time in my fourth year, he followed me (did you really think he wouldn't?). He followed me all the way down to the Chamber of Secrets where Cassidy was kept.

Well, Dumbledore was ecstatic. He had finally found the tool with which he could use to thwart me. And, use it he did.

Every week, on the days where I was studying or spending time with my friends, Dumbledore would sneak down to the Chamber of Secrets. He would copy the few words of Parseltongue he had ever heard me speak and managed to open the doors of the Chamber to find Cassidy.

And then he tortured her.

I mean, _tortured_ her.

He taught her to respond to pain. When he was finished, all Dumbledore needed to do was raised his hideous wand and Cassidy would do his bidding, in absolute terror.

She wasn't the brightest beast. She didn't know how to tell me about the mean, silver-haired man who tortured her every night. She simply listened to my words in absolute misery and wept to herself. I will never forgive Dumbledore for that.

It was mid-way through my fifth year that Dumbledore first unleashed Cassidy on he students. A second year girl by the name of Alicia Salvage was petrified when she accidently caught sight of the basilisk in the mirror of the girls bathroom.

I remember my horror as I realized what had happened – what Cassidy had _done_! But when I questioned her, she denied any knowledge of what had happened. I believed her (there must have been some mistake), but I began to have my doubts when the second students turned up dead. And then a third, and finally, Myrtle.

Oh dear sweet Myrtle. I used to have a crush on her, you know. Well, of course you didn't, but I did. She was a year younger than me and was picked on because of her glasses. But I found her perfectly hysterical when she wasn't moping about – Myrtle had and still has a wonderful sense of humor. And then… She ended up dead.

The school was closing, the girl I loved was dead, my precious Cassidy had betrayed me, and everything valuable before me seemed to be vanishing. And then, Dumbledore confronted me.

That slimy, no-good scoundrel who couldn't sum up an inch of love in that shriveled and dried heart of his! He _dared_ to confront me and say that _he_ knew who the true heir to the Chamber of Secrets was and if I didn't turn myself in then he would!

Right then and there I _knew_ who was responsible for Myrtle's death! I knew who the culprit was! That dirty, rotten _bastard_ _Albus Dumbledore_!

"How dare… you…" I hissed. My whole body was quivering in rage. Dumbledore, he was not just the jerk of a teacher I had imagined – he was a full fledged _ass_.

"Turn yourself in, Tom," Dumbledore had the nerve to say. "Or I will."

I can't say I treated the situation well. I screamed and shouted and threw books across the room. "You liar! You killed her!" I screamed over and over again until tears sprung to my eyes and I felt like collapsing to the floor in a fit of tears and desperation. "I will tell the world the truth! Even if I don't have proof, I can make them see my way! You know I can! Dumbledore! You know I can!"

And all the while, Dumbledore watched me over the top of his half-moon spectacles. He kept the perfect poker face, watching me emotionlessly as I tossed myself about the room in my rage. Finally, when I had calmed down somewhat, Dumbledore rose to his feet and said, "I've decided to spare you, Tom. I've decided to save you."

For the longest time I simply stared at Dumbledore, unable to understand what he was talking about.

"But," said Dumbledore. "Lessons must be taught. I cannot let you walk freely after unleashing that monster on the students."

"You liar…" I murmured.

Dumbledore ignored me. "I want you to frame Rubeus Hagrid."

Why was he doing this, you might ask. At first, it was a mystery to me too, but then, a year or so later, I came to understand. My threat had worked. When I said I could persuade people to see Dumbledore's faults, I was right. I was young, handsome, and popular and I could probably muster enough power to persuade some people that Dumbledore was, in fact, evil. Dumbledore did not want a seed of doubt against him, so he decided to spare me and found some whole new torture with which to destroy me. Oh yes, he wanted me to betray my own best friend.

Hagrid… Rubeus Hagrid. He may have been a Gryffindor, but Hagrid was as good as any other Slytherin. He was a misfit and an oddity and I loved him for it. Even if Hagrid was two years younger than me, we bonded over our tragedies and enjoyed every moment together. We laughed and smiled and created many memories – and now, Dumbledore expected me to betray my best friend and frame him for being the heir of Slytherin in order to protect myself from being expelled and possible sent to prison.

I did not disappoint.

Of all the things I have done in the past – deaths and torments – there is none that I regret more than this.

As Hagrid's best friend, I knew about Aragog. I knew he had a spider which would be considered Slytherin's beast. And so, I framed Hagrid and got him expelled… All so I could save my own wretched skin.

And, once it was all over and Hagrid was expelled and betrayed by his closest friend, Dumbledore – _saint Dumbledore_ – swooped down and took Hagrid into his wings. He offered Hagrid a post as gamekeeper and gave Hagrid a steady home and pay. He made _me_ look like the bad guy and made himself seem like the hero.

I stormed into Dumbledore's office, spewing accusations while Dumbledore sat behind his desk and watched me quietly, a sadistic smile playing at his lips. And do you want to know what he said to _me_! Do you want to know what he said!

"To be honest, Tom, I expected you to stand up from your friend – even if it meant sacrificing yourself."

With every ounce of genuine honesty that Dumbledore so rarely uses, he admitted to over estimating me. I had betrayed my closest friend – a sin so awful that even my _enemy_ could not believe it.

I hated myself.

Dear God, I hated myself. But who did I hate more? Dumbledore.

That loathsome man who had ruined my life, I hated him more than I hated myself. From that day onwards I knew what kind of man he was and I vowed to myself that I would do everything and anything within my power to completely and utterly _destroy _him.

No matter how evil it made me.


	7. Six: Scorpius' Rant

**A/N: Oh poor Scorpius, you shall be haunted until your dying day - have fun!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six: Scorpius' Rant<strong>

The good thing about the library is it is such a quiet place – Madam Pince makes sure of that. She supervises the library with nightmarish proficiency that ensures that every inch of the library is silent and perfect for studying.

It was relief, one Sunday evening, for Scorpius to escape the Slytherin common room (which was filled with giggling, gossiping girls and brutish boys) and come to the library to finish off his Potions essay. He really was looking forward to the moment of peace and quiet, but, of course, who was he to think he'd get off so easily. Hogwarts does not allow for silence – not in this school.

"Scorpius… Scorpius… _Scorpius_…"

Scorpius continued to write, keeping his attention focused on the essay and trying to ignore the hissing voice in his ear.

"Scorpius… Why won't you listen to me?"

The quill continued to write sentences in black ink, slowly filling up the parchment.

Voldemort sighed and rolled over in the air so that he was lying on his back, drifting somewhere near Scorpius' right ear. "Scorpius… Why don't you believe me? I'm telling you the truth…"

The quill kept working.

"You're wrong… Scorpius…" moaned Voldemort. "The poisonous toad skin goes in before the Knippie tooth…"

Scorpius paused and reexamined his essay. He hated to admit that the figure of Voldemort floating by his ear (which was, apparently, invisible to everyone else – one of the perks of being a Wisp) was right.

"See… The dead Dark Lord knows all… Scorpius… Why won't you listen to me!"

Voldemort's moans grew louder and several nearby students looked around, wondering what was making such a noise.

Scorpius sighed. "What do you want, Voldemort?"

"Shh," said Voldemort, looking around suspiciously. "You don't know who might be listening. Call me, _Tom_."

"How is _Tom_ any better?"

"Because," said Voldemort cheerfully. "If someone hears you say 'Voldemort' they'll know something's up, but if you say 'Tom' they'll just think you have any imaginary friend."

"Because that's so much better…"

"I think it is," said Voldemort, shrugging.

Scorpius picked up his quill again, returning to his essay in the hopes that Voldemort was now appeased and would _leave Scorpius alone_. Of course, Scorpius was sadly mistaken and, after about a minute of watching Scorpius write, Voldemort did a few back flips in the air and wailed, "Scorpius… Scorpius… Scorpius…"

"What?" asked Scorpius darkly.

"Why won't you believe me…?"

Scorpius sighed and put his pen delicately into the bottle of ink. "Do you really expect me to believe that Harry Potter is the most evil wizard of all time, the prophecy is a lie, and Dumbledore is a homosexual criminal mastermind!"

Voldemort nodded. "I know it's hard to believe, but Dumbledore really did have a thing for Grindelwald…"

"That's not the part I'm having difficulty believing!" hissed Scorpius, causing a few people to glances over in his direction. Scorpius picked up his quill again and quickly resumed his essay. "It's stupid."

"It's true," said Voldemort. "Every word."

In the end, Scorpius gave up trying to work and decided it was time to abandon the library. He packed up his things and cross the room to put the book away. He scourged the shelves for several minutes, trying to figure out where the book came from while Voldemort drifted about after him, complaining loudly.

"Just put it anywhere," said Voldemort. "No one cares… Madam Pince can take care of it… That's what she's here for…"

Finally, when Scorpius could stand Voldemort's complaining no longer, he slipped the book into some random place on the shelves and hurried out of the library. Voldemort floated after him, shrieking, "Oh my Lord! We're so evil! _We put the book on the wrong shelf_!"

Scorpius gritted his teeth and made his way back towards the common room.

After meeting in the Chamber of Secrets (courtesy of Moaning Myrtle), Voldemort had taken to following Scorpius around school, trying to convince Scorpius that Voldemort's story was true. Of course, the pure ridiculousness of the whole thing was enough to make Scorpius suspicious. Who one Earth was going to believe that Harry Potter – the Harry Potter who defeated the Dark Lord and saved wizard-kind – was the most evil wizard ever seen? It didn't help that the very Dark Lord that Harry Potter had defeated was the one trying to convince Scorpius.

"Why won't you believe me?" asked Voldemort.

"It's ridiculous."

Voldemort sighed and zigzagged rapidly through the air to hover underneath Scorpius' elbow. "I admit, it sounds a little ridiculous – but it's one-hundred percent true."

"Do you have proof?"

There was a pause, as Voldemort considered. Finally, he shook his head. "My Death Eaters understood…"

"Death Eaters," Scorpius said grimly. "That's hardly a name to inspire trust."

Voldemort grinned devilishly and came to hover face-to-face with Scorpius. "It was the French wine, I tell you! The French wine!"

"What?"

"Have you ever been to France, _mon petit enfant_?"

"Eh?"

"I'll take that as a no." Voldemort smiled and did a pirouette in mid air with his little white tail wiggling wildly where his feet ought to have been. "France is _fantastique_! The ladies! The food! The atmosphere! The _French wine_! My boys and I – my _Death Eaters_ – we liked to go to France all the time! We'd drink, we'd laugh, and we'd be merry. And," Voldemort giggled, "One time we thought Death Eaters would be a funny name. You know… Death Eater… We eat death… As in prevent it…"

Scorpius blinked.

"We thought it was funny…"

"The humor doesn't pass on."

Voldemort sighed and threw his hands up into the air in exasperation. "What a waste youth is!"

Before Scorpius could reply, there came the echoing sound of footsteps from the far end of the hall. Both Scorpius and Voldemort froze mid-step. They stared down the corridor, trying to decipher who was approaching and, a moment later, a tall man in black wizard robes turned the corner. He was a thin man with the stick-like legs of a stork – and the cloak did little to hide his tall, thin frame. Underneath a black wizard's hat was a mess of scruffy brown hair and sallow, sunken eyes.

"Mr. Malfoy!" cried the man in surprise.

"Professor McKinnon," observed Scorpius stiffly.

"Isn't that the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" whispered Voldemort loudly.

Scorpius made no move to reply. From what he had gathered, this was Professor Leroy McKinnon's first year as a teacher at Hogwarts (the previous teacher had died of some mysterious illness last year). Somewhere in his mid-fifties, Leroy was well liked by the students and had enjoyable classes. Scorpius had particularly liked learning the shield charm last week.

"How are you today, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Leroy cheerfully. "Out for an evening scroll?"

"No," said Scorpius flatly.

Leroy was used to Scorpius by now and simply said, "I do enjoy strolling about the castle. I discover new things every day."

"He sounds like a Hufflepuff," announced Voldemort decidedly. He spoke low enough so that only Scorpius could hear him, but Leroy's eyes still flickered uneasily as if he had heard something.

"Well," said Leroy, continuing on with his walk. "It was nice seeing you, Mr. Malfoy."

Scorpius did not reply as he continued walking towards the common room. Voldemort bounced along beside Scorpius, every so once in awhile glancing over his shoulder thoughtfully. Voldemort didn't say anything for the longest time, perhaps waiting for Scorpius to ask; however, Voldemort was only disappointed. Scorpius continued walking in appreciated silence, completely happy to not care.

Finally, when he could bare it no longer, Voldemort spat out, "He looks familiar!"

Scorpius continued walking without uttering a word.

"I'm sure I've met him before…" said Voldemort thoughtfully. "I don't think I've tried to kill him though…"

They had arrived at the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Scorpius did not even glance at the entrance as he said, "Firesprout." The wall slid to the side, revealing an entrance way and Scorpius stepped through with Voldemort following closely behind. The both of them were silent for several minutes as Scorpius entered the Slytherin dungeon with its low-slung ceiling and greenish lighting. A couple of the first-year girls glanced up at the sight of Scorpius, but he ignored them entirely and chose to sit down in a stiff leather armchair by the fire.

"You're a rather sad little soul," said Voldemort decidedly.

"Hn?" Scorpius saw a copy of the Daily Prophet resting on the coffee table and helped himself too it.

"You have all these delectable young ladies," said Voldemort, waving a hand towards the table of giggling first year girls. "Just waiting for you to notice them – and yet you neglect them entirely! What kind of a failure of a man are you!"

Scorpius flipped to the front page of the newspaper wearily. "I don't care."

"What?"

"I don't care about them," repeated Scorpius blandly. "They bore me."

Voldemort looked ready to throw a fit as Scorpius scanned the first article in the paper. He paused and then reread it. Voldemort, laced with curiosity, floated over Scorpius' shoulder and read the article.

"Another killing in a series…" he murmured. "Muggle-style killing? A gun?"

Scorpius finished the article and moved on to the next. "Some squib, I suppose. Enraged and jealous."

"No… no…" said Voldemort thoughtfully. Then, he leapt upwards, soaring towards the ceiling and crying – just loud enough for Scorpius to hear – "It must be Harry Potter!"

Scorpius sighed. "Not this again…"

"No, really," said Voldemort, coming back to Scorpius and talking in a low voice. "It's the beginning, I tell you! The beginning of the end! Harry Potter will destroy the wizarding world as we know it!"

"I will have you exorcised," said Scorpius.

"I'm serious!" cried Voldemort. "It was Harry Potter!"

Irritably, Scorpius tossed the Daily Prophet aside and got to his feet. He made his way across the common room and down the hallway to the right until he eventually reached the door way to the first year boys' bedroom. Stepping inside, Scorpius was relieved to see that the room was empty. He collapsed onto the black duvet of his four-poster bed and, lying on his back, stared up at the face of Voldemort.

"Alright," said Scorpius. "Talk."

Voldemort clapped his hands gleefully and performed a back-flip. "It was Harry Potter and his golden trio who killed the man – what's his name? – I'm sure of it!"

"Elijah Gibbon."

"Yeah, that bloke," said Voldemort airily. "According to the article he was deep in with the wizarding mafia."

Scorpius nodded mutely. "Yeah."

"Potter…"

"You have no proof."

Voldemort thought. "No… But I know it is. I know it's Potter."

A moment's silence filled the room and Scorpius lay there thoughtfully. Voldemort was still in a huff about the article and, in the end, Scorpius grew bored of waiting. He got to his feet and pulled his trunk out from under his bed and began to pull out his pajamas and change.

"You're so lucky…" said Voldemort forlornly.

Scorpius pulled off his shirt and glanced at Voldemort. "Pervert…" he muttered before taking off his pants as well.

"What!" cried Voldemort indignantly. "Who do you take me for! I'm not Dumbledore!" Nevertheless, Voldemort turned his back towards Scorpius to make it clear that he was not watching.

When he was done, Scorpius slipped into bed and pulled out a book to read.

Voldemort sighed again and said, a little louder this time, "You're so lucky…"

Scorpius continued reading.

"Can't you just ask me what I'm talking about?" asked Voldemort gloomily. "You know… Humor me…"

Still no reply. Finally, Voldemort flopped down on the bed next to Scorpius (as much as a Wisp can flop) and said, "You're so lucky you get to sleep. I can't sleep.. I haven't slept since the day I died…"

"Sounds like a tragedy," said Scorpius, rolling over in bed to get as far away from Voldemort as possible.

Unfortunately, Voldemort followed, wriggling along the mattress until he was right next to Scorpius, He leaned over and whispered in Scorpius' ear. "It is. Do you know what kind of hell I went through to become a Wisp?"

"Nope."

Scorpius tried to swat Voldemort away from his head, but his hand only passed through Voldemort's nose.

"You know why I had to do it though," said Voldemort sadly. "As loathsome as this life is, I had to do it."

Scorpius had stopped reading.

"Severus is dead. Peter is dead. Dumbledore is dead. It means I'm the only one left… The only one left who knows the true prophecy and what Harry Potter will become."

Silence stretched across the room. A second later, the door creaked open and two skinny first-year boys slipped inside. Scorpius recognized them as Isaac Mulciber and John Nott. They caught sight of Scorpius and offered him awkward smiles, which Scorpius ignored. The boys grabbed a board game of sorts out of Isaac's trunk and then they headed back down to the common room.

"You know," said Voldemort. "There can't be any harm in letting me hang around."

"Hm…"

"I can't hurt you or anyone else. I'm a Wisp – not a human being."

Scorpius didn't reply.

"I liked your father, you know," said Voldemort. "He was a good man."

Scorpius sighed and rolled over in his bed to come face-to-face with Voldemort. He hesitated for half a second before saying, "Fine. Whatever you want."

And then Scorpius closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep so he didn't have to see Voldemort's victory dance – a mix of back flips, front flips, and loop-de-loops in the air. As he drifted off, Scorpius vaguely wondered what kind of misfortune this was going to bring him.


	8. Seven: James' Rant

**A/N: At the moment Scorpius' is getting more rants than Jase. I love them both dearly, Scorpius just happens to have more going on in his life than Jase at the moment. Oh well, we get to see love struck Jase and Robert, meet Professor Leroy in more detail, and witness Jase and Scorpius' first meeting. Good times. Also. REVIEW!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven: James' Rant<strong>

Never in Jase's life had he enjoyed a detention so much. Sure, he had to grade endless stacks of papers for hour after hour, but he did so with love and devotion and he got to watch Cho teach while he worked. There was something so luminescent about her as she smiled and laughed and talked with the students. With every passing moment, Jase felt his adoration for her increase in leaps and bounds.

"Pst, Jase."

Someone elbowed Jase hard in the ribs. He squawked indignantly and glanced over his shoulder to see Robert sitting next to him, hunched over a stack of papers as well.

"What is it?" hissed Jase, rubbing his side irritably.

"Look at that nasty fellow over there," said Robert. "On the Slytherin side of the classroom…"

Jase didn't have to look to know who Robert was talking about. Isaac Mulciber was a thin, dirty boy with an upturned lip and too-big nose. He was an ugly child and he was going to grow up and be an ugly adult – like most of the Slytherins. Of course, like any other House, Slytherin had its good-eggs and its bad-eggs – not that Gryffindors would ever admit to Slytherin having some attractive students.

"The Hufflepuffs are cute," observed Jase. "In a Hufflepuff way…"

Robert grinned. "Why weren't we ever that cute?"

"We were," said Jase. "Once upon a time… all of last year…" He cleared his throat and added, "But now, we're men."

"Of course," said Robert. "In all our twelve years of age, if there's anything we've learned, it is how to be men."

"Big strong men."

"Big strong manly men."

Robert and Jase collapsed into a fit of laughter and then tried to look innocent when Cho glanced in their direction suspiciously. They grinned and waved at her before continuing to work on grading papers. Cho hid an exasperated smile and returned to her class.

"I now want you to practice your spell," said Cho. "Remember the wand movement we've been practicing – swish and flick…"

"Ah," said Jase. "The old swish-and-flick… Back in my day..."

Robert smacked Jase over the back of the head while Cho continued with her speech. "The incantation is _Wingardium Leviosa._ Off you go."

As the first year Huffepuffs and Slytherin proceeded to practice, Cho made her way across the room to see how Jase and Robert were getting on. Both boys immediately pretended to be working hard in the hopes that she might compliment them.

"Don't try," said Cho cheerfully. "I saw you talking almost the entire class."

"We got a lot done!" cried Jase desperately.

"You should be working harder," said Cho. "Any teacher would be done by now."

"But we're not teachers, are we?" said Robert. "Therefore you cannot expect us to be done by now. We're slow and learning…"

Cho smiled, but before she could reply there came several cries of delight from the Slytherin end of the classroom. Jase looked over to see a feather floating in the air and underneath it sat a rather bored-looking blond haired boy. As Cho hurried across the room to shower praise on the Slytherin, Jase tried to think where he'd seen the boy before. The white-blond hair and gray eyes were familiar and the sharp, defined features stood out boldly on his face…

"Scorpius Malfoy," said Jase darkly.

"What?" Robert blinked and examined the blond boy carefully. "So it is…"

From across the room, Cho sung out praises about how magnificent Scorpius was and how no other student had gotten it so quickly. Scorpius looked just plain bored.

"I don't like that little turd," said Robert decidedly. "How dare he milk up Professor Chang's affection like that..."

Jase cracked his knuckles and leered at Scorpius. "He should know – Professor Chang is _ours_."

"How shall we punish him?" asked Robert.

"We could hang him by his ears in the dungeon," suggested Jase. "Filch probably has some torture tools from back in the good old days."

"We can always get help from your uncle," said Robert. "What if we gave him several different skiving snack boxes at once?"

"I'm assuming we'll hide the antidote."

Robert and Jase were grinning villainously now and shooting malicious glances in the direction of Scorpius. At one point during the class period, Jase made eye contact with Scorpius and Jase mouthed, "You're going down". Scorpius only yawned and said something that Jase couldn't understand.

When the bell finally rung, Jase and Robert had Defense Against the Dark Arts with the second year Slytherins. Defense Against the Dark Arts happened to be one of Jase's favorite classes, though it was only so because to the teacher. Professor Leroy McKinnon defined awesome.

As Jase walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, the first thing he did was sprint to the front of the room and jump up and down excitedly crying, "McKinnon! McKinnon! McKinnon! What are doing today?"

Leroy blinked stupidly before throwing back his head and laughing. "Cam down, Potter. What student is so hyperactive in the morning?"

"We just saw Professor Chang, sir," said Jase.

"Ah," said Leroy." I see..."

Leroy knew about Robert and Jase's love for Cho. It was a sort of legend in the teacher's lounge, where the other professors liked to tease Cho about it. Of course, she was quite happy to be loved by her students and, in fact, she was rumored to be the only teacher who could handle Jase and Robert.

"And that's why your so happy?" asked Leroy. "Weren't you serving detention?"

"Even detention is fun when it's with her!" cried Jase.

Robert clasped a hand to his chest and cried, "Oh love divine! Her beauty in splendor! No one can rival Cho Chang, that love of mine!"

Jase punched his friend in the shoulder, laughing, and turned back to Leroy. "So what are we doing in class today? Huh? Huh? What are we learning?"

Leroy laughed and gestured the two boys to their seats. "You'll find out soon enough. For now, sit down and shut up. You're scaring the other students."

A little dejected, Jase and Robert returned to their seats and waited for the rest of the students to arrive. When class started, Leroy began his lecture on the disarming spell – which got the entire class in a tizzy. Jase had heard numerous stories from his father about the expelliarmus charm; it just so happened to be Harry Potter's forte.

Jase, however, showed none of his father's flare for the expelliarmus charm. After a good half a class period of waving his wand around, Jase slammed his fist onto the desk top angrily.

"This sucks."

"What sucks?" asked Robert. He flicked his wand and cried, "_Expelliarmus_!" Jase's wand went soaring out of his hand and Robert caught it with ease.

"Cheater," snapped Jase. "I wasn't even holding the wand properly."

"Yeah, yeah," said Robert, handing the wand back. "It's not that hard of a spell…"

"Easy for you to say," said Jase. He waved his wand it the general direction of Robert and spoke the incantation. Nothing happened. Wearily, Jase tried again and his own wand shot out of his hand and skirted across the floor.

"What were you saying?" asked Jase irritably as he went to fetch his wand.

"Having difficulties?"

Jase glanced over his shoulder to see Leroy watching carefully. Jase hesitated for a moment before nodded and Leroy made his way across the room – around all the dueling partners to stand beside Jase. "Let's see then."

Jase stood there awkwardly in front of Robert. He clutched his wand – mahogany with the hair from a centaur tail – in his hand. Well aware that Leroy was watching him intently, Jase raised his arm and said, "_Expelliarmus_!"

Nothing happened.

"You should make more of a jabbing motion with your wand," said Leroy. "Right now you're waving it about like a feather quill."

Jase glanced at Leroy and then pointed his wand at Robert yet again. "_Expelliarmus_!" The wand wriggled out of Robert's hand and fell to the floor with a weak clatter. Rather pathetic in comparison to the rest of the class, but it made Jase happy and with a whoop of delight he cried, "Pick it up, Robert! Pick it up! I've finally got it!"

Laughing, Leroy clapped Jase on the shoulder. "Good job, Potter."

In the next ten minutes before the bell rang, Jase managed to get ahold of the spell and Robert's wand was flying in every direction. Jase did not obtain the mastery that Robert possessed, but it was enough to satisfy Jase. As the other students left, he made his way up to the teacher's desk where Leroy was cleaning up his books.

"Thanks, Professor," said Jase, still grinning from ear to ear.

"All in a day's work."

"Yeah…" Jase hesitated. "You know this position is cursed."

Leroy glanced up at Jase as he placed his textbooks in a neat, orderly stack. They made eye contact for a brief moment before Leroy broke it. "Yes. I was the transfiguration teacher for five years first."

"You should have stayed," said Jase grimly.

"I'll be fine."

"The position is cursed."

'I'll be fine, Potter."

Jase bit his tongue, wanting to argue the issue further, but one look at Leroy's solemn eyes told Jase he was getting nowhere. With a sigh, Jase grabbed his bag and headed for the door where Robert was waiting for him. He paused and glanced over his shoulder at Leroy. "Don't die, Professor."

Leroy grinned. "I'll try my best not to."

* * *

><p>Dinner was an exciting affair. Robert and Jase made sure to sit apart from the rest of the Gryffindors and put their heads together to discuss the demise of Scorpius Malfoy.<p>

Last year, a fool of a Ravenclaw fifth year – named Andrew Corfick – had decided to take a liking to Professor Cho Chang. After several months of successive pranks, most of which proved to be harmful, Corfick decided he didn't much like Professor Chang anymore. With that little incident, Robert and Jase had branded Cho Chang as theirs and no one was to dispute that.

"I'm still for hanging him by his ears in the dungeon," muttered Robert.

"That's so old school – Filch-style doesn't suit us."

"True… What do you propose then?"

"A good duel. In the middle of the night, where old Filch can't find us – or any teacher for that matter. Macmillan would love to have our heads."

Robert shook his head. "You forget, Oh Noble Potter, that all Slytherins are cowards. We challenge Malfoy to a duel and he'll agree most honorably – only to set Macmillan on us when our backs are turned."

"You're right," said Jase. "I forgot not everyone is as chivalrous as Gryffindors."

"Understandable. We're used to a better lot."

"Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs aren't bad…"

"True enough, but they're not Gryffindors either."

Jase grinned and picked up his goblet of pumpkin juice. "A toast to the best House in all of Hogwarts?"

"Cheers!" said Robert as he clinked their goblets together.

Just as they took sips of the pumpkin-juice, there was an explosion of fire and ash halfway across the hall. Great fumes billowed up from the Ravenclaw tables, spiraling up towards the enchanted ceiling before disappearing into the night sky, forming charcoal clouds and drifting away.

"Ten galleons say that Finnigan blew up her dinner again," said Robert dryly. "Remind me how she got Sorted into Ravenclaw…"

"Bridget's not stupid," said Jase. "She just likes blowing things up."

"A nasty habit to have when you get down to it…"

Sure enough, as the new Transfiguration professor, Charlotte Collins, went to inspect the damage done, a smoking Bridget Finnigan hopped up from her seat patting the embers out from her hair.

"So," said Robert, as Bridget was led to the infirmary. "Any news on our murders?"

"None since Elijah Gibbon."

"The wizarding mafia bloke?"

"The very same." Jase took a long draught from his pumpkin juice. No matter how hard they tried to investigate, the murders just kept on coming. Dead guy, after dead guy, after dead woman, after dead guy. What to do? What to do…


	9. Eight: Scorpius' Rant

**A/N: Please, please, please, please, please review. Otherwise the "creepy" wisp of Voldemort will come and haunt YOU. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Scorpius' Rant<strong>

Scorpius did not like Professor Ernie Macmillan. The reason was simple. Ernie liked to divide his first year students into pairs. Each pair contained two students from different Houses and these pairs would remain intact for the rest of the school year. Unfortunately for Scorpius, Ernie had decided to partner him with Rose Weasley. Now, while Rose Weasley herself was a nice girl, there were repercussions that came with being her potions partner. Especially in the case of Lord Voldemort.

"She's as ugly as a grotesque toad that's suffered from blagwort his whole life," muttered Voldemort as he floated somewhere behind Scorpius' right shoulder. "And she smells like one of Merlin's left saggy balls."

As much as Scorpius tried to concentrate on his potion, it was hard to with Voldemort muttering curses towards Rose the whole class. Of course, no one but Scorpius could see Voldemort; however, it did not mean the other students couldn't hear him. Voldemort spoke in angry hisses and, even though Rose would look up from time to time and wonder what that noise was, she could not make out the hisses to be words (which Scorpius was grateful for since he was sure she would not find them to her liking).

"She's the ugly spawn of that bushy-haired know-it-all and that dirt-bag ginger…" grumbled Voldemort. "How do you put up with her?"

"It's not like I have a choice," muttered Scorpius from the side of his mouth.

"What'd you say?" asked Rose, glancing up from her work of slicing up Grembean stalks.

"Nothing," lied Scorpius. He tossed his diced Marin Tree leaf into the cauldron and stirred it three times counterclockwise and once clockwise, repeating the cycle regularly. The potion turned a shade of navy blue exactly as the textbook described.

"You're quite good at this," observed Rose. "Better than me…"

Scorpius said nothing. It didn't really matter to him if he was better than her or not.

However, Voldemort seemed to care very much.

He leered at Rose over the cauldron made multiple crude gestures at her, most of which Scorpius was sure her parents had never taught her. Completely unaware, Rose continued watching Scorpius in awe as he continued to work on the potion.

"Are you done with that Grembean stalks yet?" asked Scorpius.

Rose glanced at her half-finish work and quickly carried on.

Realizing that his jeers were useless, Voldemort slunk back to Scorpius' side. "Being invisible has its downfalls."

Scorpius stirred to potion.

"I can't believe her parents really got married," observed Voldemort. "The Golden Trio…" He snorted. "What a bunch of snot-nosed kids…"

"Those snot-nosed kids killed you," muttered Scorpius.

Before Voldemort could come back with yet another of his snarky comebacks, Rose looked up from her work and asked, "Did you say something, Malfoy?"

"No."

"Oh…"

Professor Macmillan was making his rounds, examining each cauldron carefully. He praised Albus Potter and Veronica Goyle – probably less because of Veronica's talent, but because of Macmillan's love for Al.

At Macmillan's words, Al offered him a simpering smile and a gentle word of thanks.

"His potion is turquoise."

Scorpius did not have to look to know that Voldemort was the one who spoke. The bitterness and disgust in his tone was clue enough. While Voldemort disliked Rose Weasley for her parentage, he absolutely abhorred Albus Severus Potter.

"He's the spitting image of his wretched father," snarled Voldemort angrily. "With all his damned airs. He's not even good at potions – it's just because he's _Saint Potter's son_."

Scorpius added the beanstalks when Rose was done with them. The fire beneath turned bright green for a moment and then flickered back to orange – just like the book said. As Rose stirred, Scorpius began squeezing the juice out of an Ammelganian pomegranate.

"What has little Al Potter done for himself?" continued Voldemort, completely unaware that his audience was not listening at all. "Nothing! Nothing! Absolutely nothing!"

Rose stopped and glanced around. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" asked Scorpius blandly.

"Um…"

Before Rose could explain, Ernie interrupted her. He stood over their cauldron and expected it carefully. Despite his desire to say nothing, Ernie forced himself to congratulate them on their fine potion. Of course, Ernie's words were directed almost entirely at Rose and Scorpius was bluntly ignored.

"The shit," said Voldemort. "That's all he is, a pompous piece of shit."

"Did you say something, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Ernie icily.

"No," said Scorpius. "Why is everyone hearing things today?"

"Maybe this dungeon is haunted," suggested Rose softly. She looked quite frightened at the prospect, though there was a bit of excitement in her haze eyes.

"Nonsense," snapped Ernie. "I've worked here ten years and never heard any whisperings until today. No, Miss Weasley, the only whisperings here are the whisperings of bad students." Ernie glowered at Scorpius.

"Great…" muttered Scorpius as Ernie walked away. "I can feel the love practically radiating off of him."

Rose giggled. Voldemort would have laughed too, but when he saw Rose's happiness, he started to gag on air and mime strangling himself.

"Really mature…" said Scorpius under his breath.

Rose heard. She was about to ask if Scorpius meant her when the door to the dungeon opened and Professor Neville Longbottom called out to Ernie. With a strict warning to his students, Ernie slipped outside the classroom and shut the door behind him so as not to be overheard as he conversed with Neville. He needn't have worried. None of his students found his conversations nearly so interesting as to listen in. What the closed door did provide, however, was an opportunity for Al Potter and Scorpius Malfoy to confront one another.

It was not Scorpius' idea to talk. If things went the way Scorpius wanted them to (this nearly never happened), he would stay as far away from Al as possible and be quite happy. Al, on the other hand, had different plans. The moment Ernie closed to door behind him, Al got to his feet and approached Scorpius.

"Don't you dare do anything to my cousin," said Al.

Scorpius was rather surprise by the sudden outburst, but, like any Malfoy, he hid his shock and patiently continued working on his potion.

"Did you hear me?" asked Al. "I know what you've been saying."

For a second, Scorpius wondered if Al meant the conversations with Voldemort.

"You've been calling her mudblood when she isn't listening," said Al. "She'll hear you and ask what you've been saying, but – like the coward you are – you won't tell her. She's trying to be nice to you, Malfoy – you shouldn't laugh at her behind her back!"

A couple of the Gryffindors cheered on Al's words. Scorpius squeezed the last of the juice out of the pomegranate and dropped it into the potion with a plop. The liquid turned a light shade of lilac. Perfect.

"Are you listening to me?" asked Al, trying to keep his voice under control. "Do you think you're so above the rest of us that you don't have to talk to us?"

"Yes," grumbled Voldemort. "Shut up, you snot-nosed brat. You're as nasty as your father – only he hid it better."

Scorpius suppressed a yawn and gave his potion one final stir. Finished. He poured the brew into a flask.

"_Slytherins_," said Al in disgust, as if a dirty word has passed through his lips.

The other Gryffindors laughed and Al returned to his seat. Ed Spinnet thumped him on the back proudly and called him a noble addition to Gryffindor. It was enough to make Scorpius want to vomit.

"I can't live with this…" grumbled Scorpius as he put out the fire beneath the cauldron.

"Agreed…" grumbled Voldemort.

"Am I…"

Scorpius glanced up to see Rose Weasley looking at him with teary eyes. "Am I that bad of a potions partner?"

Scorpius had not been talking about her; however, it made no difference to him if a Weasley cried or not. So, Scorpius let her carry on thinking that was as he cleaned up his things. Al Potter had managed to frame him as a twisted, arrogant Slytherin and now his potions partner for the year hated him – things could not get any better for Scorpius Malfoy.

Ernie returned only when the bell rang for the end of class. He had all the students place their potions in a flask and turn the flask in to him. Only Rose, Scorpius, Veronica, and Al had actually finished their work.

Scorpius hurried out the classroom, eager to avoid another spectacle with Al Potter.

"I can't believe it with my own dead eyes," said Vodemort as he floated beside Scorpius down the near-empty hallway. "A Malfoy being bullied – what would your mother say."

"That could hardly be considered bullying," said Scorpius.

"On second thought," said Voldemort. "Maybe the reason Malfoys are never bullied is because they're too thick-skinned to realize it."

"Sure," said Scorpius. "Let's go with that answer."

"You know," said Voldemort. "It's sort of sad that you don't have any friends. By your age, you father had his two cronies at his side. I think you need some evil little minion of your own to do your bidding."

"Really?" said Scorpius dryly. "And here I thought Al Potter and Rose Weasley were all too willing."

Voldemort grinned. "It's not my fault you don't have any friends – Duck!"

Scorpius acted on reflex. The moment the words left Vodlemrot's ghostly mouth, Scorpius dipped his head. Over top of Scorpius' head, a fanged lime-green Frisbee soared down the hallway. A thin had reached up and snatched the Frisbee out of the air, careful to avoid the jagged teeth.

"Sorry, _Malfoy_, didn't mean to scare you."

The boy who held the Frisbee was of medium height with a stocky build – though not yet fully grown. He was a second year, with black, mussed-up hair and hazel eyes. He was grinning at Scorpius, though there was no friendliness to the smile, only raw malice.

"Actually, _Malfoy_, we sort of did mean to scare you."

Scorpius glanced over his shoulder and saw a tall, thin boy with dark skin and dreadlocks approaching. Undoubtedly, he was the one who threw the damned Frisbee.

The hallway had been near empty when the Frisbee had been thrown. Now the few passers-by had stopped to see the confrontation and Scorpius was forced to be present before the crowd.

"Scare me?" asked Scorpius. "Did you really? I'm afraid you should try a little bit harder next time."

Voldemrot snorted. "Believe me, they'll try."

"We have a bone to pick with you, _Malfoy_," said the dreadlocks boy. "I'm Robert Jordan – remember it."

"Excuse me," said Scorpius. "What was your name again? I forgot."

There was a flicker of amusement in the other boy's eyes, while Robert looked peeved.

"You really have no friends, do you?" said Voldemort thoughtfully.

"Are you surprised?'

"A little, yes."

"Who are you talking to?" asked the other boy. "There's no one there."

"Or is there?" said Scorpius, dully. "I rather wonder."

"Freak…" muttered Robert.

"What's going on here!"

Before any more words could be exchanged between the three boys, a middle-aged man with a scraggly-beard and water-blue eyes stormed through the crowd of students, a thick-handled broom draped over his shoulder. Robert and the other boy stared at the man in blatant confusion.

Robert broke the silence. "Who are you?"

"Derrick Aarons, the new caretaker of Hogwarts."

Robert blinked. "What happened to old Filch?"

"He retired this summer," said Derrick. "And I took over the job." A wry grin crossed Derrick's face. "He told me to watch out for you two – but I don't know who the third boy is…"

Derrick glanced in Scorpius' direction, waiting for a name. Scorpius' gave none.

"That's Scorpius Malfoy," said Robert. "A _Slytherin_."

"Ah." Derrick smirked. "And what would two Gryffindor second-year students such as yourselves be doing with a Slytherin first-year?"

"Just playing," said the other boy innocently.

"With a fanged Frisbee?"

The boy glanced at the lime-green Frisbee in his hand and quickly tried to hide it.

"Too late now," said Derrick, holding out a hand to take the Frisbee. "I won't give you a detention, but I'm confiscating it."

"As long as you don't hang us by the ears in the dungeon, I'm fine," said the boy with a sly grin.

"I still keep the chains oiled," said Derrick.

Laughing, the two Gryffindor boys hurried away and, with an unacknowledged nod in Scorpius' direction, Derrick Aarons departed as well. The student crowd that had gathered dispersed and Scorpius was left alone in the hallway with the translucent image of Voldemort beside him.

"I like that boy," said Voldemort. "Not Robert. The one with the black hair."

Scorpius snorted. "Really?'

"Charming sort, you know – he'll be good for something one day. Shame he's a GHryffindor."

"You might want to take back your words, _Tom_," said Scorpius. "The black haired boy is James Sirius Potter II."


	10. Nine: James' Rant

**Chapter Nine: James' Rant**

It was only September and already the early morning weather had Jase Potter frozen to his broomstick. As he stumbled about the Quidditch pitch, trying to get some feeling back into his legs before taking flight, Jase scanned the stands to see if nay lovely ladies had come to see his tryouts. The stands were empty save for the lone figure of Jase's loyal friend, Robert. Robert was bundled up tight in gloves and a scarf with a mug of hot tea between his blue-purple fingers.

"You alive, Jase?"

A gloved hand thumped Jase on the back and he turned around to see white-blond haired twins grinning back at him: Lysander and Lorcan Scamander, the twin sons of Luna Lovegood and Rolf Scamander. Good family friends. Lysander also happened to be a Chaser as well as the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and Lorcan was the all-important Keeper.

"Hey, guys," said Jase, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. "Long time no see. Where were you this summer? Lily missed you at her birthday party."

Lorcan grinned. "Parents took us hunting for that Crumple-Horned Snorkack of mother's."

"Any luck?"

"What do you think?"

"I'll take that as a no." Jase sighed. "Next time take me with you – it's better than playing dolls with Lily all summer."

Lysander ruffled Jase's hair playfully. "Don't worry; it won't turn you into a girl to play with her… I don't think."

"That hardly inspires confidence."

Laughing, Lysander and Lorcan walked away to joined the rest of their teammates. The Gryffindor Quidditch team was, for the most part, complete. On the other end of the pitch stood the Seeker, seventh-year David Chambers with his mop of messy brown hair and skinny build. Standing next to David was the pretty Fifth-year Chaser Annabelle-Louise McGibbons. Finally, walking out towards them from the locker room was a grouchy beater, Alexander Sloper (a third year). The team was only missing a beater and a keeper.

The tryouts were reasonable sized with about a dozen students standing a group, of them four held beaters' bats. Besides Jase there was one other second year, a burly girl by the name of Joanne Mirfield. Jase met her eyes and she gave him an awkward smile, which Jase returned. He slipped through the crowd to stand beside Joanne.

"I didn't know you liked Quidditch."

She nodded; her face flushed bright red. "I came from a muggle family… I played football until I was ten and, after watching Quidditch all last year, I decided I should try for the magical version of football…"

Jase grinned. "Good point. You ever been on a broom at all?"

Joanne nodded nervously. "I've been practicing."

"Good. Trying out for Chaser?"

"Yes."

"Same here. My father was the Gryffindor Seeker all his years at school and was made Captain in his sixth year. He was the first person in about a hundred years to play on the team during his first year at Hogwarts. And my grandfather – he's dead now – was the Chaser for six years and he was the Captain for three of those."

Joanne smiled meekly. "You have a lot to live up to, then."

Jase grinned. "Don't worry about it – I'll outrank all of them soon enough!"

"But isn't your father Harry Potter?"

The name. Was there a day that went by where Jase didn't hear his father's name? He doubted it. Instead, he smiled at Joanne and said, "Yes, yes he is. That's why my name is Jase _Potter_. The last name gets passed down through the paternal line, you see."

Joanne's face turned a bright shade of red. "I know… I just…"

"Don't worry about it," said Jase with a grin. "It's all good."

Just then the Gryffindor Quidditch team made their way across the pitch to stand before the crowd of tryouts. Lysander stood before the crowd, a huge smirk splashed across his face. One-by-one his eyes fell upon each person, scrutinizing him or her carefully. When he was satisfied, Lysander announced, "I'm splitting you up. Beater come stand in a group on my left and Chasers come stand in a group to my right."

The groups did so and Jase and Joanne hurried to the group on Lysander's right. As it turned out, there were eight students trying out for Chaser and four for Beater. The odds weren't in Jase's favor.

"Alright," said Lysander. "Lorcan, Annabelle-Louise, and I will deal with the Chasers. Alex and David will take care of the Beaters."

The four Beater-tryouts followed the Seeker and Beater across the field to the other end of the pitch. Jase watched them go for a moment before turning his attention to Lysander. Lysander had already mounted his broom and kicked off, now floating several feet above their heads.

"Let's go," said Lysander. "Ten laps around the pitch."

Jase practically jumped on his broom in his eagerness to keep up with Lysander. Before any of the other tryouts had registered what was going on, Jase raced after Lysander and the other team members.

"Wait for me, Jase!" wailed Joanne as she raced behind him.

"Can't," said Jase. "I want this position just as much as you – which means you're my competition for the day." And, laughing, Jase zoomed off after the team.

* * *

><p>The tryouts lasted until about midday. And, at the end, Lysander gathered the tryouts in a group to announce his findings.<p>

"Alright," said Lysander, his fellow teammates standing behind him. "First string Beater is Jordy Harahan."

Jordy was a stocky fifth-year with strawberry blond hair and bright green eyes, not the best-looking fellow, but not bad either. All Jase knew about him was that he wasn't the cleverest bulb in the bunch, but somehow he had ended up dating the beautiful fourth-year Ravenclaw Eleanor Goldstein – there must be some good qualities about him.

Lysander announced the second and third string Beaters before turning his attention to the Chasers. "You all did well today, but there can be only one. Jase Potter, welcome to the team."

A wide grin spread across Jase's face as he was surrounded by congratulations. Even Joanne congratulated him, though she only made third-string. After the celebration was over, the tryouts who hadn't made it headed for the locker room and the Gryffindor Quidditch team met quickly.

"We're having Practice three times a week," said Lysander grimly. "Last week the four Captains sorted it out amongst ourselves. Slytherin gets Monday nights, Wednesday mornings, and Saturday nights. Ravenclaw gets Sunday mornings, Tuesday nights, and Friday nights. Hufflepuff gets Tuesday mornings, Wednesday nights, and Friday mornings. We practice every week on Sunday nights, Monday mornings, and Thursday mornings."

"Could you possibly have picked worse times?" asked Annabelle-Louise wearily. "Monday mornings?"

"We had the worst picking spot," said Lysander grumpily. "I can't help it."

"Alas," said Alexander. "At least now we know when we can spy on the Slytherins."

"I'm pretty sure that's against the rules," said David thoughtfully. "Let's do it!"

"You're all awful and ought to be expelled from school," observed Lysander. "Anyways – go eat lunch. We have practice tomorrow night at five. Don't be late."

Eagerly, the Gryffindor team raced to the locker room to shower and change. As Jase pulled on his weekend attire (they were not required to wear school uniform on Saturday and Sundays), the blond-haired Jordy appeared beside him.

"Congrats on making it, Potter."

Jase nodded. "You too, Harahan – I don't know how you manage to take the Beater position. I'd be afraid I'd break my nose."

"That's what the bat's for," said Jordy. "To break _other _people's noses."

"As long as it's not mine, I don't care – my face it too pretty for that."

Jordy rolled his eyes and pulled his shirt on. Grabbing his bag he headed for the exit, calling over his shoulder "See you tomorrow!"

Jase finished changing and packed up his stuff. Bag slung over his shoulder, Jase made his way up to Gryffindor tower. He had barely gone ten steps out of the changing room when he was attacked by an overly enthusiastic Robert.

"Congrats man! You did it! You're the greatest! Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team! And you're only in your second year… Must be the baby of the team."

"Yeah, yeah," said Jase. "I'm dead on my feet."

"Who wouldn't be," said Robert, calming down a little. "Saw Joanne crying as she left the changing room earlier."

"Poor girl."

Robert nodded. "I have good news."

"What?"

"Well… actually it's bad news… But it's good for us."

Jase eyed Robert suspiciously. "Did Malfoy drown in the Great Lake or something?"

"No, no, nothing like that," said Robert. "That would be good news for everyone. No, there's been another muggle killing."

"That was fast," said Jase. "There were only two over the summer and in the first month of school there's been three. The killer's picking up pace."

Robert nodded. "But guess what – this guy was stealing money from the Ministry of Magic's treasury, before – bam, bam, bam – three gunshots to the head."

"So all of them have been criminals except for number three, as clean as a whistle he is."

Robert nodded grimly.

"What should we do?"

For a moment, Robert considered, and then a sly grin spread across his face. "When is doubt, Jase, to the library!"

"Never thought I'd hear those words coming from your mouth."

Laughing, Robert grabbed Jase by the wrist and practically dragged him through the corridors of Hogwarts in the direction of the library. It was practically empty (as the library tends to be on a Saturday) except for a couple of Ravenclaws and Rose Weasley. As Robert plunged into the shelves of newspaper clippings in search of Dodge Seeterton, the Secretary of Sports and Games in the Ministry of Magic, Jae walked over to Rose's table.

"Hey, Cuz."

She glanced up and smiled at the sight of Jase. "What's up?"

"Just made Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team," said Jase proudly.

"Oh!" cried Rose. "Congrats! You should send a letter to Uncle Harry – he'll be really proud!"

'Yeah…" Jase felt a smile work its way onto his face. His dad would be proud. Another Quidditch player in the family. And Jase had made it before Al, which meant the honor was all his. Al was only a first year, after all, and maybe he would have none of the Potter Quidditch talent, even though both Ginny and Harry had played in their school days (and after in Ginny's case).

"Send an owl to him," said Rose. "And don't forget."

"Of course not," said Jase. He glanced at the piece of parchment sitting on the table in front of her. "What are you working on?"

"Potions essay – Professor Macmillan is really strict."

Jase grinned. "Aw, he's not too bad. He only pretends to be a toughnut – on the inside he's a soft as a marshmallow."

"You set a dungbomb off in his class on the first day of school," said Rose bluntly. "A lot of teachers have already warned the first-year students about you and Robert. We know what kind of tricks you guys get up to."

"Ah," said Jase. "Good old Macmillan, warning the younger students against us big bad troublemakers."

"It's not funny," said Rose.

"You have to admit, it is a little funny."

"Not really…"

"Jase! Jase! James Sirius Potter!"

Jase sighed and rubbed his temples wearily as Robert came sprinting down one of the rows of books, holding a stack of old newspaper clippings under his arm.

"This is a library, you know," said Jase. "Quiet. Before Madam Pince kicks us out."

"Right, right," said Robert, lowering his voice. "But I found it!"

"Found what?"

Robert glanced suspiciously in the direction of Rose. Sighing, Jase bid good-bye to his cousin and followed Robert to the back of the library where no one could hear him. Robert spread out the newspaper clippings and said, proudly, "Look here, I found Dodge Seeterton's skeleton-in-the-closet."

"I don't get it…" said Jase slowly. "These clippings are from the wizarding war against Voldemort…"

"His name was Dodge Eddings then," said Robert in an undertone. "These clippings are about people suspected of passing information to You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters. Dodge Eddings is on this list."

"Do you have proof that Dodge Eddings and Dodge Seeterton is the same person?"

"They have a photo."

Jase glanced at the moving picture to which Robert pointed. It was a crowd of men and women running away from a group of Death Eaters, who were trying to curse the crowds. In the corner of the picture, on the Death Eaters' side, crouched a small, wizened man with distinctively blue eyes and a bald patch. The man was unmistakably Dodge Seeterton, twenty-years younger.

"Well, I'll be damned," said Jase softly.

"He was charged as an accomplice, but there wasn't enough proof to apprehend him," explained Robert. "So they released him. To avoid any further accusations, he changed his name and moved cities. Other than that – his record is spotless."

"That is all our killer needs."

Robert nodded grimly.

"Well," said Jase as the packed up the newspaper clippings and returned them to their original shelf. "You're quite good at this, Rob. Found them in record time. You sure you shouldn't be in Ravenclaw."

Robert laughed. "I may be smart, but I'm not that smart."

They made their way out of the library and, with grumbling stomachs, towards the dining hall. However, their path was intersected by none other than Scorpius Malfoy. The loner Slytherin who could be seen talking to himself from time to time and, of course, Robert and Jase's rival in their romantic quest for Cho Chang's heart.

"I think food can wait," said Robert softly. "I have a score to settle with Mr. Malfoy."

"Agreed."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I decided to switch my comment to the end. Yay, Jase is on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a Chaser. I put him in the same position as his Grandfather (James I) because I thought Jase had more of James in him that Harry. Jase is a bit of a prat to begin with, but I promise you he gets better. He just had a sad childhood... **

**Anyways REVIEW! Please! I love reviews. They make me all tingly inside...**


	11. Ten: Scorpius' Rant

**Chapter Ten: Scorpius' Rant**

"How many times do I have to tell you!" exclaimed Voldemort angrily. "Potter is behind these murders! It's Potter!"

"You don't have any proof," said Scorpius bluntly.

"I don't need proof!" exclaimed Voldemort. "I _know_! My gut instinct is telling me. I know it's Potter! I know!" He folded his arm and sat on the railing of the staircase in the deserted hallway. There were no paintings to spy on them and no students around to overhear. Voldemort would have made himself completely visible except for Scorpius' warnings.

"You don't know for certain," said Scorpius. "It is just a hunch. A hunch that could very well be wrong."

"It's not."

Scorpius sighed and shook his head. "You have no proof."

"I don't need any."

"Yes you do. No one will believe you unless you have solid proof. This is Saint Harry Potter we're talking about here, _Tom_. Everyone in the whole planet thinks he is perfect. You need proof to destroy Harry Potter."

Voldemort groaned and tried to hammer his head against the wall (an action that obviously didn't work since he was a wisp). "Why is life so difficult?"

"You're dead."

"Thanks for the reminder," snapped Voldemort. "Why is death as difficult as life?"

"Because you're hell bent on destroying Harry Potter – and that is not an easy man to bring down."

Voldemort groaned. "You're right, unfortunately. To think I'm being bested by an eleven-year-old kid."

"What a great dark lord you turned out to be," muttered Scorpius.

"Oh shut up. I'm telling you these killings are Potter's work."

"Vigilante killings are not all that uncommon. Just because Potter speaks with justice doesn't mean he's a killer."

"According to the prophecy, he will start out thinking he's just," said Voldemort. "He does it all _for the greater good_. Do you think that evil people start out with the goal of being evil? They always want to do things for the greater good – only it doesn't work out that way."

"Is that how you started?" asked Scorpius dryly.

Voldemort paused. He considered this for a moment, a dark shadow crossing over his translucent, serpentine face. "Yes."

Before Scorpius could say another word, however, Voldemort's head jerked up and his eyes widened as he caught sight of someone standing behind Scorpius. Slowly, so that only Scorpius could hear, Voldemort said, "James Potter."

Scorpius turned around. The two second-year Gryffindor boys grinned at Scorpius.

"Long time no see, Malfoy," said Robert. "S'up?"

"I wish the time could be a little longer," said Scorpius. "Unfortunately, you had to come and find me."

"Your mother's fat and your father's a beaver," said Voldemort darkly.

"What was that?" asked Robert, his eyes narrowing in anger.

"Are you hearing voices?" asked Scorpius, somewhat pleasantly, as Voldemort snuck up behind him and poked his head over Scorpius' shoulder.

"Shut up!" snapped Robert. "We know you're just trying to steal Professor Chang from us!"

Scorpius stared.

Jase nodded in agreement. "One look at her beautiful face, elegant features – proud and noble – and you couldn't resist her charms. We know the temptations she offers, but you – slimy Slytherin – must understand something…"

Robert and Jase glared at Scorpius, their eyes burning with passionate hatred. "Professor Cho Chang is _ours_."

Scorpius stared.

"Oh…" Voldemort said slowly. He drifted over Scorpius shoulder until he hovered between Scorpius and Jase. A slow smile flickered over Voldemort's face. "Ah-ha!"

"What are you talking about?" asked Scorpius. He spoke to Voldemort in particular, but the question applied in both situations.

"You're chasing after Professor Chang like a boy in love!" cried Jase angrily.

Before Scorpius could figure out the proper way to hex Jase Potter, Voldemort hissed, "Tell them it's an unrequited love."

"What?"

"You heard me," snarled Jase. "You're chasing after our Cho."

"Tell them that," whispered Voldemort. "It will save you a lot of pain."

Scorpius glanced at Voldemort before turning to Jase and Robert. Reluctantly, Scorpius said, "It's a, um, an unrequited… love."

Silence.

Were they going to hit him, Scorpius wondered. However, Jase and Robert just stared at Scorpius blankly. "Unrequited?"

"Tell them you love her from afar, but you know he heart belongs to someone else…"

"Um… I love her, um, from afar. She – er – her heart belongs to someone…else?"

Silence.

And then a wide grin spread across Jase's face. Robert remained grim, but Jase covered the space between him and Scorpius in a few steps. He flung an arm around Scorpius' shoulder and said, "And do you know who her heart belongs to?"

"Er…"

"Me, obviously," said Jase. "It was love at first sight."

"Um, yeah…"

"Jase…" Robert was frowning; the furrow between his eyebrows was so deep that is seemed like he had a single brow across his forehead. "Jase, what are you doing?"

"He understands us," said Jase, keeping his arm firmly around Scorpius' shoulders. "He loves Cho, but he knows that he heart belongs to me and me alone – so he must love her from afar. He understands us, Rob."

"He's a Slytherin."

"Slytherin, Schmytherin," said Jase, waving away Robert's words. "Our love for Cho comes before our Houses."

"He's a Malfoy too."

"Don't condemn the kid for his father's crimes," said Jase with a shrug.

"Do I get a say in this?" asked Scorpius under his breath.

"Nope," said Voldemort cheerfully.

Suddenly, before Scorpius had quite registered what was going on around him, Jase grabbed Scorpius by the wrist and dragged poor Scorpius down the corridor behind him. Scorpius stumbled along after Jase with Robert storming along behind them.

"This is stupid, Jase," snapped Robert. "What would your father say? He's Harry Potter! The Malfoys! The Malfoys!"

Jase decided to ignore Robert at that point and instead turned to Scorpius and said, rather pointedly, "Have you eaten lunch yet?"

"Er…"

"Say no, say no!" hissed Voldemort. "Say no or I'll scream in your ear while you sleep for the next month!"

"Er… no…"

"Good," said Jase. "You can come eat with us. We can share stories of Cho's exquisite beauty and radiance."

I'm surrounded by freaks, thought Scorpius gloomily.

Jase led Scorpius into the Great Hall where the House tables lay. It was about two in the afternoon and the Hall was practically empty save for a few students at each table eating a late lunch. Scorpius tried to make his way to the Slytherin table, but Jase kept a firm grip on Scorpius' wrist and led him to the Gryffindor table.

"Sit," commanded Jase as he plopped himself down on the bench.

Scorpius scowled. "I'm a Slytherin."

"So? No one's going to kill you if you sit at the Gryffindor table."

Scorpius scanned the hall. The students at the Slytherin table were watching him carefully, waiting to see what he was going to do. It was a crime for any Slytherin to be friendly with a Gryffindor and vice versa. The two Houses did not get along. And yet here was Jase Potter, son of the renowned Harry Potter, offering him, Scorpius Malfoy, a seat at the Gryffindor table. What irony is this?

A smirk crossed Scorpius' face and, slowly, he lowered himself into the seat beside Jase. "I'm hungry."

Several plates of sandwiches appeared in front of Scorpius. His goblet filled with pumpkin juice and silverware appeared before him and Jase. Scorpius reached for the food and dished himself up, enjoying the meal immensely (his first Gryffindor meal). Jase helped himself too and Robert reluctantly sat across from them.

"That looks so yummy," said Voldemort forlornly (quiet enough so that Robert and Jase couldn't hear). "I want some…"

Scorpius decided it was best to ignore the wisp and instead took a bite of his bacon and cheese sandwich. It tasted just as good as the Slytherin food.

"So how's your first year at Hogwarts?" asked Jase.

"It's school," said Scorpius dully.

"Yeah, but it's a _magic_ school." Jase laughed and took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "There's no deny the fun in a magic school."

Robert nodded. "Secret passageways and the likes – there's no end to the entertainment."

"Well…" Scorpius glanced at the seat beside him where Voldemort was staring opened mouthed at the food. "It is, um, interesting… Some unexpected things have happened…"

"To be expected," said Jase. "I remember when my first staircase moved…"

Robert laughed. "Didn't you start panicking and tried to jump to another staircase?"

"I almost made it," said Jase. "That was also my first trip to the Hospital Wing."

"You'll be making a lot more now that you're on the Gryffindor Quidditch team," added Robert approvingly.

They seemed to have forgotten Scorpius' existence until Jase turned around and said, "We had tryouts today. You're now looking at the new Gryffindor Chaser – Jase Potter!"

"Oh…"

Robert snorted. "This is where you offer your congratulations, Malfoy."

"What if I don't want to offer my congratulations?" asked Scorpius. "Though, it might be good for the Slytherin if you play…"

Jase grinned wryly. "What are you implying?"

"Look out," said Robert. "The first match is Gryffindor versus Slytherin."

"I don't really care who wins," said Scorpius. "It's just Quidditch."

Jase gasped. "Just Quidditch! Just Quidditch, you say! Have you gone stark-raving mad! It's Quidditch! Quidditch is everything!"

"Not really."

"He's a loony," decided Robert. "A loony Slytherin."

"If Quidditch doesn't matter, can you cheer for Gryffindor then?" asked Jase. "I mean, it doesn't matter who wins to you, but I'd rather like to have another fan."

"There's a difference between not caring who wins and cheering for Gryffindor."

"Ah, well," said Jase, shrugging. "It was worth a shot."

Scorpius took another bite of his sandwich. He caught sight of Voldemort gazing at him with a soppy expression. "Why are you looking at me like that?" whispered Scorpius. "You're making me want to barf."

"Look at my little Scorpius," said Voldemort adoringly. "He's all grown up and making friends."

"Shut up, you freak."

"What?" Jase stared at Scorpius in surprise. "Did you just tell me to shut up?"

"Er… Not you…" said Scorpius. "I was… talking to my… invisible friend…"

Scorpius wanted to hammer his head on the tabletop – what kind of lame excuse was that? Invisible friend? Really? Really?

And then Jase laughed. He doubled over, clutching his stomach and trembling with mirth. Robert and Scorpius stared at Jase blankly, trying to figure out what was so funny. Slowly, still shaking, Jase sat up and managed to gasp out the words, "That was hilarious… Invisible friend… What's your invisible friend's name?"

"Um… Tom…"

Jase laughed even harder.

"You know," muttered Voldemort. "The funnier thing is that you're telling the truth."

"I don't get it," said Scorpius.

Jase sat up straight and patted Scorpius on the shoulder. "I like you – even if you are a Slytherin and a Malfoy – I like you."

"I think," said Voldemort. "That is possible the fastest I have ever seen an enemy transform into a friend."

Scorpius could not agree more. "Weird Potter."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hmmm... This chapter isn't as good as I would have liked it to be considering this is the chapter where my two main characters become friends. Oh well. Voldemort really causes more problems than he solves. Anyways, PLEASE REVIEW! I LOVE REVIEWS! THEY MAKE ME HAPPY AND THEY MAKE ME WANT TO WRITE MORE WHICH MAKES ME WANT TO UPDATE MORE! **


	12. Eleven: Voldemort's Rant

**Chapter Eleven: Voldemort's Rant**

When you swear to destroy the greatest wizard of all time, you need a little leverage.

I knew this. Any sensible man knows this. Dumbledore was, beyond a doubt, the greatest wizard of al time. As much as I hate him, I can still admit this. And so, I spent my last two years at Hogwarts doing research – research to find my leverage. In the end, I found it. In the form of a horcrux.

Horcruxes are evil. I say this now and I say it firmly. I knew the consequences and the horrors that came along with horcruxes and, to be honest, at that time I didn't really care. The only thing going through my head at that time was: I Must Defeat Dumbledore.

I killed people. I used their lives to split my soul. I split it. Again. And again. And again. It mutilated me beyond repair. But, you know what, I never regretted it. What I did, I did for the greater good. I did it to save the world from evil. I made sure that every person I killed for my horcruxes had committed crimes against humanity. Rapists, murders – they were used in the creation of ultimate evil. It doesn't make what I did right, but it lessens the guilt just that little bit.

The idea of horcruxes really began the summer of my seventh year at Hogwarts. I had heard of the horcruxes and had done a little research on them the previous year, but I never really seriously considered making some. Then, that summer, I decided to visit my uncle's house.

I'd never had any family before and, in my research, I discovered I had some relatives in a village called Little Hangleton. I was eager to visit them. After asking some locals where the Gaunt family lived, they directed me to a run down cottage on the outskirts of the village. I knocked on the crooked door and it was answered by a gaunt looking man (get it? Gaunt? A gaunt looking man? It's a pun – I'm really clever like that).

The man begrudgingly let me in and introduced himself as Morfin Gaunt. And, though he didn't know it at the time, he was my uncle. Well, you can imagine my excitement. For teenage boy who had been orphaned at birth, this was the happiest moment of my life – until my uncle decided to attack me.

I told him that my mother was Merope Gaunt and Morfin had a sort of seizure. He doubled over and let out a series of cusses. Then, he straightened up with his wand pointing directly at my forehead.

He called me a demon child. The son of a muggle. The muggle that lived up on the hill. Tom Riddle. Despicable. My uncle didn't want anything to do with me. And then he attacked me. My response was reactionary – a wave of my wand and my uncle was unconscious on the floor, blood dripping from his forehead.

I panicked.

I was seventeen. I was young. And I had just knocked out my own uncle. I started panicking and, as quick as I could, I wiped my visit from his memory. Then I saw the ring on his finger. That ring was my birthright. It belonged to me. A sudden desire washed over me – the family I had never known hated me. That ring… it should have been mine.

I took it.

And then I headed up to the big house on the hill to meet my father. He – and my grandparents – greeted me as well as my uncle did. They hated me too. They were selfish and rich and vain. My grandfather went for his gun… There was only one thing for me to do.

I killed them.

I regret it. I really do. It was awful and terrible. It was a decision made by a broken teenage boy. What did I know? In the wizarding world you come of age at seventeen, but, you know, seventeen is far too young. I didn't know anything at seventeen. Nothing. And so, I killed my father and my grandparents.

Next to their lifeless bodies, I sunk to the floor and cried. I cried like I had never cried before. And, in that bitter moment, I came to reach a whole new level of determination. I used my father's death to create my first horcrux; then, I altered my uncle's memories to make him think he was guilty of murder (he had already been accused of several muggle hating crimes). I covered my tracks perfectly and had dipped myself into the ultimate evil. In doing so, I took my first step towards defeating Dumbledore.

Merlin, I was stupid.

But I continued. I returned to school and kept on making horcruxes. I didn't make one right away, but, slowly, I became more comfortable with the idea. I had already ripped my soul in two once – what could another time do?

So I found a criminal and killed him, using his death to turn my old school diary as the horcrux.

The second time I ripped my soul it didn't hurt nearly as much as the first. And, slowly, I came to the realization that three lives would not be enough to beat Dumbeldore. I had to be immortal – or at least as near to immortal as one can be. So I decided to split my soul seven times.

Then, I befriended the Gray Lady – whom I knew to be the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw. It took much wooing and I found myself actually enjoying her company. I would have called her my friend if our relationship was not a constant reminder that I must defeat Dumbledore. Eventually, at the very end of my school year, she told me where to find the diadem.

I left school and went abroad to Albania where I found the diadem and turned it into another horcrux, using the death of a twisted rapist who preyed on little girls. Then, I returned to Hogwarts and – applying for a teaching job that I knew I would never get – I hid the diadem in the Room of Requirement.

Four horcruxes meant five lives – that wasn't nearly enough. I wanted seven. Seven was the magic number. It was a lucky. And, Merlin knows, I needed all the luck I could get to defeat Dumbledore. So, I got a job a Borgin and Burkes in the hopes that I could find more artifacts worthy of holding my soul. Artifacts that were valuable and had been long forgotten – artifacts that no one would think of finding.

And then I met her: Hepzibah Smith.

I didn't approach her expecting her to have the very artifacts I desired. I actually befriended her with the goal of exposing her villainies. You see, I knew what few others did. That the elderly and supposedly frail Hepzibah Smith was deeply involved in the wizarding mafia.

(Yes, the wizarding mafia is real – don't laugh).

It was through the wizarding mafia that she acquired my mother's necklace. Of course, she didn't know it was my mother's necklace when she showed it to me. She smiled and laughed and flashed her shiny trinkets, not knowing that by revealing the truth to me, she was sealing her own grave.

What I had to do was painfully clear in my young, naïve mind. A selfish woman owned valuable artifacts. I wanted to seal my soul in those artifacts and I needed someone to kill to create horcruxes. There was Hepzibah Smith – the clearest cut criminal I had ever seen. I killed her. I sealed my soul. I altered her house elf's memory. The house elf took on all the guilt and I got off scot free.

I did it all so easily too. That's what frightens me the most.

You hear all those stories about people who turn evil trying to fight for the sake of the common good. The thought of that happening to me never occurred to me back then, but, now, looking back – perhaps that's exactly what happened to me. I didn't stop to think – I just sort of charged forward, creating horcruxes left and right. Never pausing to think if I was still following my ideals – or had I, in my attempts to preparing for a war against Dumbeldore, sunk to his level.

I didn't think.

And I paid the price.

The wizarding world came to hate me, and rightly so. I killed. I mutilated. I destroyed. And I did it all in the name of defeating Dumbledore – who in their right mind would actually believe me!

No one – except my Death Eaters, my closest friends.

I realize that now (spending so much time in the Chamber of Secrets taught me a lot of things). And so, I live in regret. I don't regret the fact that I made the horcruxes. I mutilated my soul – but, to me, it was a necessary sacrifice in order to save the world. What I regret is that I had to kill people and that, as a killed more and more people, I lost sight of my original ideals and became a man that few people could trust.

Yes, that's what I regret.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: What is this? Why are there no jokes in this chapter! Because this is a serious rant. I want Voldemort to have a developed character. Yes, he's a laughing idiot most of the time, but he has his own issues. So here - CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT! Voldemort is badass. I haven't updated in FOREVER. But suddenly the urge to write this story came to me. So, here you go, and update. I'll try to update again - with a more amusing chapter. This chapter was short and depressing, but necessary. **

**Now, please review. For the love of me and my writing and all good things in this world - REVIEW! REVIEW FOR THE NEW YEAR! **

**(I really need to go write my English essay, Fallen - you procrastinator!)**


	13. Twelve: Ginny's Rant

**Chapter Twelve: Ginny's Rant**

Ginny glanced over the article one more time. Perfect. Absolutely perfect! Well… Maybe… No. She shook her head and pinched herself in the arm to wake up. Don't look at it. She'd been working on this article for a week. It was perfect. Now, all she had to do was shut up and send it to the editor.

Gritting her teeth, she folded up the piece of parchment and attached it to the leg of an owl. The brown owl fluffed his feathers indignantly and glared at her as if to say Why Are You Making Me Both With This Shitty Article?

"Shut up," she muttered. "It's bad enough that _I'm_ nervous about this article. I don't need you too."

The owl blinked and, the moment Ginny finished tying to article to his foot, he spread his wings and flew out the window, heading for my boss's office. She watched him until he disappeared from view. Then, she closed the window with a sigh.

"Someone looks like she hasn't slept in weeks."

Ginny glanced up to see Dean Thomas leaning against the wooden frame of the doorway. The years had been good to Dean. He had grown from an awkward teenage boy whose biggest concern in life was getting girls into a mature front-page columnist for the Daily Prophet who now didn't need to concern himself with girls because they came to him willingly. Tall, broad and muscular, there was nothing _unsatisfactory _about Dean's appearance – though, Ginny had to add, he isn't Harry Potter.

"Have you finished your article already?" she asked.

"Articles," correct Dean. "I have two."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Right, Mr. I Am Published Daily."

"Is someone feeling insignificant, Ms. Once A Week?" asked Dean, smirking.

"Maybe a little," confessed Ginny.

"Don't worry. Your fans far outnumber mine. People don't actually know anything about me beyond my work – whereas your fans stalk you wherever you go – it's one of the perks of being a famous Quidditch player."

"Ex-famous Quidditch player," corrected Ginny. "I retired."

Dean nodded. "After that particularly nasty injury… I remember."

"And now I sit at a desk all day writing articles about how other Quidditch players have career ending injuries and will probably end up sitting at a desk all day."

"Tut-tut," said Dean. "Is someone feeling a little bitter?"

Ginny shrugged. "A little."

"That's okay," said Dean. "I have the solution to bitterness!"

"What?"

"Coffee. There's a new muggle place that cropped up right across the street – I walk past it every day and I've been _dying_ to try it."

"And you need company to try out a new coffee place?" asked Ginny, amusedly.

"Yep. Nothing makes good coffee like good company."

Laughing, Ginny grabbed her coat off the back of her chair and headed towards the exit. She locked the door behind her and Dean led the way through the building. Ginny's office was up on the second floor. They took the stairs (Dean had issues with the crowded elevators and, according to him, stair climbing burned more calories per minute than jogging, so one should take the stairs at every opportunity possible).

"Is that true?" Ginny asked.

"Huh?" As they reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped out into the front hall of the Daily Prophet office buildings, Dean looked over his shoulder at her. "What are you talking about?"

"That stair climbing burns more calories per minute than jogging?"

"Oh. That? Yeah." Dean laughed. "I dated some girl called Lindsay once and every time we took the stairs she repeated that phrase. Apparently it was stamped on some staircase that she went up every day and it got stuck in her head." He smirked. "She was crazy."

"Really?"

"In a good way… I think."

Ginny laughed. They stepped through the revolving front door and stepped out onto the street. The Daily Prophet Press was located in between two muggle apartment buildings. The people who walked by had no interest in what appeared to be a run down small printing press (magic is great like that – it can hide a five story, sheik office building that's always bustling with wizards and witches).

The coffee shop that Dean was talking about was directly across the street. It was a snug place – nothing with the professionalism of a Starbucks – but rather approached the comfortable, hanging-out image of a family owned business. As they stepped inside, Ginny was greeted by squishy couches and round tables surrounded by cute little wooden chairs. The shop smelled a spices and coffee, with the machines in the back whirring as the muggles made their little concoctions.

"It's nice," said Ginny, a little surprised.

"I know," said Dean. "You can see why I wanted to come in every time I passed by."

Ginny nodded. She scanned the menu before picking out exactly what she wanted. She ordered and, before she could pay, Dean placed his order to and gallantly paid.

"You didn't have to do that," said Ginny as they picked up their coffees and moved for a table in the back.

"Sure I did," said Dean. "We're old friends, aren't we? Anyways, it's not like I'm broke – I can afford to buy you a coffee."

Ginny smiled and took a gentle sip of her coffee. It seared her tongue, but she remained silent, taking the burning with gritted teeth.

"So what's got you so stressed?" asked Dean.

"You know… Work… Kids… Al has started Hogwarts, you know – I hope he's handling it okay. And Lily keeps complaining. She wants to be with her brothers, you know."

Dean grinned. "If only I did know. But I'm still enjoying the good old life of a bachelor. I didn't get married right off the bat – like a certain someone."

Right then, Ginny wished desperately that she could say she regretted nothing. She wished she could pity Dean that he hadn't settled down yet – say that a married life was the best thing she could have wished for. But, somehow, Ginny couldn't make the words come out of her mouth.

"What's up?" asked Dean.

Ginny didn't answer right away. She took a sip of her coffee, swished it around in her mouth, swallowed, and then sighed. "I think Harry is having an affair."

To his credit, Dean didn't bat an eyelid. He simply sat there, took a sip of coffee and, after a long pause, said, "Oh. What makes you think that?"

"He's been coming home later and later each night – sometimes he doesn't even come home," said Ginny. "And he's been so… you know… distant. He spends all his time talking to Ron and Hermione… It's like… How do I describe it? I'm there, but I'm not there. Like we all posed for a photo but I got cut out and you can only see the Golden Trio."

"Ah," said Dean softly. "Now there's a phrase I haven't heard in awhile. The Golden Trio."

"The Golden Trio plus Ginny. Except then people say Ginny who? in the end."

Dean nodded grimly. "I think we've all had moments like that. The Golden Trio built this… _wall_ around them. We weren't there. When they were going through all those ordeals – we weren't there, so how can we understand? That's what they think. So they don't let us in. You just get the worst of it because you're married to the Harry Potter."

Ginny nodded mutely.

"He might not, you know, be having an affair. Maybe things are busy at work. I don't know…"

"Or he could be having an affair," said Ginny bluntly.

"Or that. But that's a heavy accusation – you shouldn't just be throwing words like that around."

"I know…" Ginny sighed. "Can we change the subject? Please?" She glanced up at Dean, her hazel eyes wide and pleading.

A sly smile crossed Dean's face and he nodded. "Of course we can. Actually, I came by your office today for a reason…" He trailed off and hesitated.

"What is it?" asked Ginny.

"Well, I've been working on those serial murders," said Dean slowly. "The ones where the killer always uses a gun to murder ex-criminals, and, um, I thinking that the killer has some sort of past issues with criminals – perhaps some sort of trauma. So maybe your husband knows…" He stopped, dreading the sort of effect this request would have on Ginny.

However, she smiled and said, "Sure thing. I'll see if he knows anything. Of course, the source is a secret."

"Of course."

They finished their coffee in near silence. The only conversation they made were light comments about the weather and Quidditch. When they had finished, they got to their feet and headed back to the office – Ginny had to see if she had gotten a reply from the boss. Her article was due to be published tomorrow. They had barely taken three steps into the building when a woman caught sight of Ginny and hurried over excitedly.

"Oh dear!" she cried. "It's you!"

Ginny smiled. It'd been awhile since a fan had recognized, but still, it was nice to know that people still appreciated her Quidditch skills. "Hi," said Ginny, with genuine welcome. "What's your name?"

"Mariam," she said. "I'm such a huge fan – I can't believe the things your husband has done!"

It took a whole two seconds for Ginny's smile to vanish. "Oh. Right. Harry. Yeah, he's amazing…"

"It must be so nice to be married to Harry Potter himself," said Mariam excitedly. "He certainly chose a beautiful wife! And I heard your youngest son is going to Hogwarts this year!"

"Yes," said Ginny, still trying and failing to put another smile on her face. "We're all very happy for Albus…"

"I don't suppose…" said Mariam slowly. "You could get an autograph for me? It's just… I'm such a big fan…"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," said Dean. He reached out a hand to touch Ginny's shoulder, pulling her away from the rabid fan. "But Ginny has some work she needs to do."

Miraim blinked as if she hadn't seen Dean before. "Oh… Right… Of course…"

Ginny forgot to say good-bye as she made her way to the stairs. Dean was quick on her heels, but he didn't say a word until they were making their way up to the second floor and there was no one around to hear.

"She didn't mean anything by it," said Dean.

"I know," said Ginny. "I'm Harry Potter's wife. I'm well aware of what I am."

"Ginny…"

"Yes?" Ginny stopped climbing the stairs and turned around to face Dean. He stood several steps below her, his black eyes gazing up at her, filled with pity.

"You're cracking," he said softly.

Ginny shook her head. "I know… Dean..." Her voice croaked. "What can I do…?"

"Do you really want me to answer that question?"

"Not yet."

* * *

><p>For once, Harry was home for dinner. Ginny could have sworn it was a miracle. The night passed by as if it were a dream. There he was walking through the door on time. There he was sitting at the dinner table. There he was saying good-night to Lily. There he was resting on the sofa. There he was smiling at Ginny lovingly.<p>

"How was your day, dear?" asked Ginny tentatively.

"Good," said Harry. "It's Ron and Hermione's anniversary. I gave them our present and then headed home – I haven't seen you in forever."

"You saw me last night," said Ginny softly.

"Just long enough to crawl in bed and fall asleep," said Harry. He extended his arm towards Ginny and then motioned to the spot on the sofa beside him.

Slowly, Ginny lowered herself onto the cushions. She rested her head lightly against Harry's shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. She could hear his gentle breathing. He was so warm. So comfortable… Was she really talking about… just this afternoon? With Dean? She closed her eyes and tried to push those memories away.

"I was talking to Dean today," said Ginny, remembering suddenly.

"Yeah?" said Harry. "I haven't seen him in forever. How's he doing?"

"Still single," said Ginny. "But his carrier is flourishing. He's been following those serial murders – the one where ex-criminals are shot to death – and he was wondering if you had any suspects… Of course, any information you give him would be confidential…"

Harry laughed.

Ginny jumped a little, not expecting it. She sat upright of the sofa and stared, wide-eyed at her husband. He was sitting on the sofa, his arm still resting on her shoulder, with his head tipped back and a deep, throaty laugh echoing through him.

Ginny stared.

"Yeah, said Harry, wiping a tear from his eyes. "I'll look into it."

Ginny didn't move. She was still staring at her husband. This wasn't him. She knew her husband. She's been married to him for fifteen years. She _knew_ him. Or did she? Just this afternoon she had been all too willing to accuse him of having an affair… Maybe she didn't know him at all. Or maybe she only knew her old husband, and he had changed. Into this man. This laughing man who at the mentions of murder had an expression of "Oh the irony" stamped all over his face.

"Harry…" said Ginny slowly. "What do you know of these murders?"

He tipped his head to the side and gazed at her fondly. Those eyes… those almond-shaped green eyes that were filled with love and adoration – Harry Potter loved her, Ginny knew that. Despite all her insecurities and fears, she knew that Harry Potter loved her. But, still, there was that dread building up inside her.

"Harry…"

"I said that I'll look into it," said Harry. "Quit worrying."

Ginny blinked. Then smiled. "Worrying? Who said I was worrying?"

She sat back down and snuggled against his shoulder again, her eyes fluttering shut. She could hear him breathe outward in one heavy burst (Was that a sigh of relief?). His fingers ran through her red hair, stroking it gently. She kept her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep and praying – praying so desperately – that he couldn't hear her heart racing.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: OMFG Ginny gets SCREEN TIME! It's a miracle. Okay, that will always be a sore spot for me. Anyways, I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter. But, I have to read 35 pages out of my American History AP text book and answer questions and then read a play for English... for tomorrow. So, this is what you're getting. **

**Please review. Happy New Year. Please review. Have a great 2012. Please review. That is the year, right? Please review. I love you all/ Please review. **


	14. Thirteen: Scorpius' Rant

**Chapter Thirteen: Scorpius' Rant**

It was a warm morning on a Saturday in late October and, in yet another one of his desperate attempts to escape the Slytherin common room, Scorpius found himself wandering down to the shores of the Great Lake. Scorpius settled down on the bank and pulled a book out of his bag.

The last few weeks at Hogwarts had been… interesting. Ever since Scorpius had publically announced his friendship with Jase Potter by sitting at the Gryffindor table, the Slytherins had ostracized him. A Malfoy who befriended Gryffindors – who had ever heard of such a thing. In all honestly, Scorpius had never heard of such a thing either. However, he was having more fun hanging out with Jase and Robert than he had ever had before in his life (not that Scorpius would ever admit it). And, of course, being known as a Slytherin who associates with Gryffindors meant that the girls had stopped giggling at the sight of Scorpius. The guys had originally tried to bully Scorpius, but their attempt at torment had put Scorpius to sleep and, eventually the guys just left Scorpius alone. So, since he had always been a loner, Scorpius thought that he had gotten the better end of the bargain.

"I missed the Great Lake…"

Scorpius glanced at the patch of grass next to him where Voldemort was lying, his chin propped up in his hands.

"Haven't you been living at Hogwarts for the past two decades?" asked Scorpius.

"Yeah, but I never ventured to the surface," said Voldemort. "I was afraid someone would see me."

"You're not afraid now."

"That's because I have someone to stalk."

Scorpius sighed. "At least you can admit your creepy tendencies."

Voldemort giggled (a frighteningly girly sound). "I am what I am."

"Are you talking to Chester?"

Scorpius jumped – startled by the sudden presence of another being. Scorpius whipped his head around only to see the grinning, mischievous face of Jase.

"What are you doing here?" asked Scorpius.

"Morning walk," said Jase as he settled himself onto a patch of grass beside Scorpius. "I saw you and thought you could do with some company – though apparently you and Chester were holding up a conversation just fine."

"Chester?" repeated Scorpius blandly.

"The boy's lost it," said Voldemort.

"Chester," said Jase. "It's the name of the Giant Squid."

Scorpius stared.

"Last year, Robert and I were complaining that Hogwarts is so uncreative with names. I mean, really – the Forbidden Forest? The Great Lake? The Great Hall? The Giant Squid? So lame. So, the Giant Squid in now Chester."

"Chester."

Jase nodded. "Yep. Chester."

Scorpius stared.

Behind him, Voldemort burst out into a maniacal fit of laughter. He flipped in the air and crumpled to the ground, hammering his fist against the grass. "I love this kid!" cried Voldemort. "He may be a Potter – but damn! I love him!"

"Did you say something?" asked Jase.

Scorpius shook his head. "It's Tom."

Jase grinned. "Oh right. The imaginary friend again – what's a saying?'

"That you're hilarious," said Scorpius unemotionally.

"At least _someone_ has a sense of humor," said Jase, grinning at Scorpius. "I think Michelangelo's David has more emotion than you."

"What?"

"Oh. Um. Muggle reference," said Jase slowly. "Right… You're from a pure blood family."

Scorpius scowled. "Malfoy's don't associate with muggles. Rule number one for my childhood."

"You must have had a sad childhood," said Jase.

"I'll say," said Voldemort. "The Malfoy's were always such a dreary bunch. As great friends as they were, they always had issues with muggles. I loved muggles, you know. Muggles were great! Especially French muggles… the ones with C cups… and D cups."

Scorpius slapped his forehead and sighed.

"What?" asked Jase.

"Er… there was a fly…" said Scorpius lamely, pulling his hand away.

"So you just squished the bug into your forehead?" asked Jase. "That's sort of disgusting."

"It got away…"

"Darn," said Jase, snapping his finger. "Those flies. They're getting too tricky for me. You know one day they're going to take over the world."

Scorpius waited for Voldemort to make some witty comment, but, glancing over his shoulder, Scorpius saw that Voldemort was still fantasizing about French women and instead Scorpius said, dryly, "I don't think flies are that clever…"

"That's what they want you to think."

Jase suddenly stiffened up. His eyes were fixed on someone behind Scorpius. For a moment, Scorpius thought Jase had seen Voldemort, but then Jase started waving. Scorpius glanced over his shoulder to see the grinning faces of Elizabeth Longbottom and Zacharias Smith II.

As the two made their way across the ground over to where the boys sat, Scorpius turned to Jase and muttered under his breath, "Great…"

"What?" asked Jase. "Do you know them?"

"I sat with them in a compartment when I first arrived at Hogwarts," explained Scorpius. "Zack accused me of calling your brother a green-eyed faggot."

"Oh," said Jase. "Well, he is a green-eyed faggot."

"Much worse than that," said Voldemort, who had recovered from his daydream and was now peering over Scorpius' shoulder. "He's a ball-less horned toad."

"Brilliant," muttered Scorpius.

Elizabeth and Zack settled onto the grass beside Jase (Zack made sure to keep a distance from Scorpius) and Elizabeth just grinned sheepishly at Jase (her expression made Voldemort burst out into another fit of snickers).

"What are you doing up so early?" asked Elizabeth.

"You're getting us confused," said Jase. "Robert is the one who doesn't get up before noon. I'm an early bird."

"Right," said Elizabeth. "Zack and I just had breakfast – we were making our way to owlery. I need to send a letter to mom."

"Fun," said Jase. "I'll leave the writing home to Al."

"How's Al doing?" asked Elizabeth. "I haven't talked to him since the first week of school. He's too cool for us now." She laughed and elbowed Zack in the ribs.

"Ow. That hurt!" snapped Zack.

"Sorry, Mr. Grumpy Pants," said Elizabeth with a laugh. She glanced eagerly at Jase, hoping that he would laugh as well, but Jase only stared at Elizabeth grimly.

"He's doing fine," said Jase. "Made tons of friends. I think he has his own fan club already."

Voldemort blew a raspberry and went to float behind Elizabeth's head, making faces every time she spoke.

Scorpius zoned out of the conversation and eventually pulled out his book and began reading. They didn't want Scorpius in their conversation. Well, at least Elizabeth and Zack didn't. Jase actually liked talking to Scorpius, but other than him the others just saw Scorpius as a hindrance. But that was okay. Scorpius liked them as much as they liked him – which is to say, not very much.

Eventually, Elizabeth and Zack decided to finish their journey to the owlery. Reluctantly, Elizabeth got to her feet and followed Zack away. The moment they were out of earshot, Voldemort hissed in Scorpius' ear, "Tell Jase that his fan club is probably bigger than Albus's."

Scorpius sighed. "No."

"What?" asked Jase.

"Tom thinks that your fan club is probably bigger than your brother's."

Jase blinked. "I have a fan club?"

Voldemort snorted and stuck his tongue out. In Socrpius' ear, Voldemort muttered, "Tell him: this is coming from the King of Popularity – you have a fan club. Elizabeth was practically drooling over your every word."

"Elizabeth likes you," translated Scorpius.

"That's not what I said!" cried Voldemort indignantly.

Scorpius skillfully ignored him.

"She was?" asked Jase, somewhat surprised. He shrugged. "She ought to know that Professor Chang is the only one for me – that face, those lips, those eyes – she's perfection in human form!"

"She's too old for you," said Voldemort. "And Elizabeth is a prat. But don't worry, Voldy's here to help." He let out a cackle and clapped his hands. "Matchmaker! Matachmaker! Make me a match! Find me a find! Catch me a catch!" He twirled a in a circle and continued singing in a squeaky whisper. "Matchmaker, matchmaker, look through your book! And make me a perfect match!"

"You're pathetic," said Scorpius.

"You're just as pathetic as me!" cried Jase. "Aren't you the one with the unrequited love for Professor Chang!"

"I'm just helping a poor, lost soul," said Voldemort. "And I happen to have a refined taste in musicals!"

Scorpius sighed. He was surrounded by idiots. Maybe he should drown himself in the lake and save himself all the trouble. ..Of course, Chester would probably just throw him back out again.

"I hate water…" said Scorpius.

"What?"

"It's because he can't swim," said Voldemort, who knew all about Scorpius' fear.

"Nothing," said Scorpius, extremely glad that Jase couldn't hear Voldemort. If the two ever had an actually conversation, they would probably have a field day.

"Come on… Tell…" said Jase, grinning excitedly.

"Nothing." And, in a desperate attempt to change the subject, Scorpius said, "So what's you issue with your brother?"

Jase blinked. "What? Where'd you get that idea?"

"You freeze up whenever his name is mentioned," said Scorpius, shrugged. "I'm not stupid, just an unemotional Malfoy – don't get the two confused."

Jase grinned. "Never did. But, no, you're right."

Scorpius stared.

Jase ran his fingers through the grass, up rooted some blades and throwing away the scraps. He took his time replying. He took so long, in fact, that Voldemort nestled in to the grass and pretended to fall asleep. Scorpius, on the other hand, waited. His expression was completely neutral and, from the outside, no one would know that he was actually really interested in what Jase had to say.

"He's the spitting image of my father," said Jase finally.

"Damn right," said Voldemort. "The mini-Potter. So annoying! He needs ot grow some balls."

Scorpius said nothing.

"My father loves him for that. He adores my brother. It's Al this, Al that, Al everything. And then… Jase who? My father doesn't even know I exist. I'm just… the son who isn't Al. And… I don't know…" Jase hesitated. "He's my brother, I know. So I try… I try to love him… But, you know… He's just sort of…"

"Evil?" suggest Voldemort helpfully.

"Odd…" said Jase. "I don't know."

* * *

><p>A week later, Halloween arrived.<p>

Hogwarts paid more attention to Halloween than most British schools. The halls were decorated with festoons. Pumpkins replaced the candles in the Great Hall and they floated eerily above the head of the students, their wide grins illuminating the hall. Of course, just because it was Halloween, it didn't mean that classes were cancelled.

"This is boring," said Voldemort as he drifted in front of Scorpius' face.

It was a miracle that Scorpius still managed to pass all his classes with top grades considering Voldemort was talking in his ear the entire time. Try paying attention to Professor McKinnon while Voldemort is telling you about the time he and his Death Eater friends snuck away in the middle of the night to throw a wild party in Hogsmeade – it's near impossible.

"Scorpius?" asked Voldemort. "Scorpius? Are you listening to me?"

Scorpius copied down some phrase of Professor McKinnon's and turned his attention back to the front of the class, where the professor was giving an animated lecture.

"You're just as boring as this class," said Voldemort. "I don't even know why you bother to show up – I could teach you ten times more than this prat. He probably won't last another year, anyways."

Scorpius tilted his head to the side so that he could see past Voldemort.

"Lame!" cried Voldemort, doing a somersault in the air. "So lame… Maybe I should go stalk Jase instead – he's much more entertaining. Why don't you two have any classes together?"

No reply.

"Urg." Voldemort lay down on Scorpius' desk, his little white ghostly tail wiggling. He propped his head up on his hands and gazed at the front of the class. "You know… I still think this teacher looks familiar."

Scorpius glanced up at Professor McKinnon. The man was tall – like a stork – with bony limbs. He was somewhere in his mid-fifties and, as far as Scorpius could tell, the years had been hard on him. His face was sallow and sunken, wrinkled marred his features and gave him a sort of leathery look. However, he had a big smile that made him likeable to anyone who met him. From what Jase had told Scorpius, Professor Leroy McKinnon had initially been the Transfiguration teacher, but, over the summer, Professor McKinnon had switched to Defense Against the Dark Arts (the renown cursed subject).

"Does he?" asked Scorpius.

Voldemort didn't reply. He was squinting at Professor McKinnon, trying with all of his might to remember where he had seen the man before. Thanks to the distraction, Scorpius was able to spend the rest of the class taking notes in peace.

With about five minutes left in class, the professor finished his lesson and gave the students free time to do their homework. The moment Professor McKinnon finished his sentence, Voldemort jolted upright and turned to face Scorpius. His face was stretched in a wide grin and he clapped his hands excitedly, waiting for Scorpius to ask what was going on.

Scorpius waited.

"Come on!" said Voldemort eagerly. "Come on! Come on! Guess what!"

Scorpius waited.

"You're not going to ask are you?" said Voldemort disappointedly.

"No."

Voldemort sighed. "You're ruining my moment." He looked depressed for a moment, but second later, Voldemort's smile returned. He learned forward, his white, noseless face inches from Scorpius wide eyes. "I'll just tell you then!"

Scorpius was so surprised that he forgot to write down whatever Professor McKinnon was saying.

"I knew it!" cried Voldemort. "I knew I recognized him! And you want to know why? He was a Death Eater! One of my Death Eaters – not for a long time, but he was. During the Second Wizarding War! Leroy McKinnon… He's changed a lot…"

Scorpius blinked. It was only his Malfoy genetics that stopped him from screaming out "What!" in the middle of class. Instead, he smoothed his face into the neutral territory and, under his breath, he said, "Professor McKinnon was a Death Eater?"

"Yep," said Voldemort proudly as he sprawled himself across the desk again. "Merlin, it's been a long time."

Scorpius stared at the front of the room where the weary looking Leroy laughed warm heartedly at a joke one of the students made. And you think you know people…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: What? Fallen Angels just updated twice in one day! She's on a ROLL. hahaha I finished my homework by some miracle. Read Doctor Faustus - fucking hilarious. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Voldemort of a bamf. Matchmaker is my favorite song from The Fiddler on the Roof (if you don't know the play, go rent the movie. It's great). Anyways, please REVIEW. Because I love REVIEWS. And nice, good people will REVIEW because they know that REVIEWS make the author very happy. REVIEWS are the secret to happiness. Along with coffee. **

**REVIEW. **


	15. Fourteen: James' Rant

**Chapter Fourteen: James' Rant**

Food. Would. Not. Go. Into. Jase's. Mouth.

No matter how many times he stabbed the damned food with his damned fork, he somehow managed to miss the whole damned plate.

Robert called it nerves.

Jase blamed the plate—It kept moving when he wasn't looking.

The Great Hall was crowded with students, all dressed flamboyantly in their favored teams' colors. The Slytherin table at the far end of the hall was dyed in green and silver, while the Gryffindor table was crimson. The two tables in between—Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw—were a mix. Some green, some red, and some neutral. But in the end—Slytherin or Gryffindor—the hall was buzzing with excitement for the first Quidditch match of the year.

Jase was going to puke. All over his damned treacherous plate.

"Relax," said Robert, thumping Jase on the back. "Everyone's nervous before the first game of the season."

"Yes," said Jase. "Because the Hufflepuffs look so concerned."

"Look—just get the quaffle into the hoop and we're all good. As long as you don't screw up too badly, no one will demand you booted off the team."

Jase's fork missed the plate again. "Thanks, Robert. That cheered me up immensely."

"Always glad to help."

Jase decided to give up on food and instead settled for glowering at the Slytherin table. Maybe if he glared at them for long enough, they'd get scared and forfeit the match… The idea was almost laughable, but he could hope.

A figure slipped through the doors of the Great Hall, before heading towards the sea of green, he took a detour past Jase's end of the Gryffindor table. Scorpius Malfoy wore none of the vivid green, but rather a simple black shirt and jeans—not a speck of house spirit on him.

"Are you cheering for Gryffindor?" asked Jase.

Scorpius snorted. "No."

"Then what's with the lack of snakishness."

"I don't care about Quidditch."

Jase gasped and slammed his fork on the table. "Blasphemy! Quidditch makes the world go round! Without it, we'd have drunk wizards raiding the muggle streets every night because they have no where to vent their testosterone. But with Quidditch they can all sit in a bar together and get drunk while yelling a moving picture—hurray! No violent drunk wizards!"

"Your reasoning is terrible."

"But it makes sense."

"No."

"Yes." Jase grinned slyly and waggled his fork at Scorpius. "You know it does—but that Slytherin pride of yours won't let you admit it."

A trace of a smile flashed across Scorpius' face as he turned away from the Gryffindor table. "Good luck."

"Don't get too discouraged when I trash your house!"

Scorpius left Jase for the green crowd and Jase turned back to the crimson supporters, all of whom were staring at him in mute horror. When Jase caught their gazes, they quickly looked away.

"Why do you talk to him," muttered Robert under his breath.

"He's a fellow fan of Cho," said Jase. "We cannot reject our fellows."

"He'll try and steal her away from us," said Robert.

"Scorpius has already said his love is unrequited—she has another in her heart… me." Jase grinned proudly.

Robert sighed and glanced nervously at the rest of the Gryffindor table. "He's a Slytherin."

"Are we going to hold his House against him?" asked Jase. "That's so boring and old. So his dad was a Death Eater and tormented my dad in school and my dad had this grudge against his dad and they fought and my dad showed up his dad time and time again—who the bloody hell cares?"

Robert ducked his head and said nothing. He shoved a piece of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"Ah, you're all like that." Jase put his fork down and got up from the table, His nerves from early completely abandoned, Jase turned around and headed for the exit. At least on the Quidditch pitch there was none of this complicated—he's a Slytherin and you're a Gryffindor and she's a Ravenclaw, but she's a Hufflepuff. It was just this team and that team. One wins, the other loses. The end.

The walk down to the changing rooms was a long and lonely one—most people were still eating breakfast in the Great Hall, and, when he got there, the Gryffindor changing room was all but empty. Jase pulled his red bag off the hook and began pulling out robes and padding.

"You couldn't eat either?"

Jase jumped and glanced about wildly.

Lysander was leaning against the wall opposite Jase, smirking broadly.

"I can't help that the plate kept trying to run away," said Jase irritably. "It just doesn't like me today."

Lysander laughed. He was already dressed in full Quidditch robes, the red clashing against his blue eyes. "That tends to happen before a Quidditch match. My thing is that my cup of pumpkin juice can't stay still."

"Dishware and Quidditch don't go well together," said Jase. He pulled off his shirt and pulled on his Quidditch robes.

"So," said Lysander, sitting down on the wooden bench next to Jase's disarrayed padding. "Slytherin match."

Jase shifted uncomfortably. "May the best team win."

"Which will be us," said Lysander.

"Yeah."

"Have you met the Slytherin captain?" asked Lysander.

Jase shook his head. "I don't know a lot of Slytherins."

"And you're friends with even less," said Lysander with a laugh.

"Hey, one Slytherin friend is still one Slytherin friend. It's more than you have."

Lysander shrugged. "True. It's not like I intended it to be this way. I just…Never talk to them."

"So what's your grudge against the Slytherin captain?" asked Jase.

"Dresdan," said Lysander. "He stole my girlfriend Fifth Year."

Jase rolled his eyes. "That's the reason? Man, I thought you were above such petty things."

"She was really hot," said Lysander. He clenched his hands into fists. "Like ten out of ten hot."

"You're pathetic."

Jase slid on his boots and examined the full outfit. Ready for a Quidditch match. All he had to do was get rid of the churning feeling in his stomach and everything would be fine. Jase took a deep breath. Easier said than done.

* * *

><p>Jase landed lightly on the grass. He ran his fingers through his messy black hair and let out a wild laugh. His heart skipped lightly and he tried to hold in his mirth, but it bubbled forth without restraint. He clasped his brook tightly in his right hand and gazed up at the stands, a broad grin spread across his face. The green half of the stands was filled with a disgusted murmur, while the crimson and gold half was screaming with delight. A victory. Jase could taste the victory. It tasted like sweat and grass and hard work.<p>

"Jase!"

Annabell McGibbons (fifth year chaser) raced across the pitch. She clutched her broom in her left hand and ran, her arms and legs waving about in all directions. A huge grin crossed her round face and she flung her arms around Jase's shoulders.

"We did it!" she cried.

"Yeah!" Jase hugged her back.

"You were amazing," she said, stepping away.

"Not as amazing as you," said Jase. "You put Lysander and me to shame!"

Annabelle laughed. "You flirt."

"Annabelle!"

She turned around just in time to be swooped up into the arms of Jordy Harahan (fifth year beater). They laughed and kissed. Jase turned away and found Lysander's right arm wrapped around his neck in a headlock.

"You little brat," said Lysander.

"You're too good to be true," said Lorcan, thumping Jase on the back. "He's a keeper, Lysander. We ain't getting rid of him so easily."

"Never," said Lysander. "Once we sink our teeth into you, we never let you go."

"It's the motto of the Gryffindor Quidditch team," said Lorcan.

"Don't tell him weird things," said Annabelle, holding onto Jordy's hand and laughing.

"You guys, you guys, you guys," said Alexander Sloper (third year beater), staggering across the pitch with his eyes open wide in surprise. "You guys—we won."

"Is it just getting to you?" asked Lysander.

"We got mauled by Slytherin last year," said Alexander.

"That's because I was in the hospital wing," said David Chambers (seventh year seeker).

"Stop doing stupid stunts then," said Lorcan.

"That's because Lysander dared me to do it."

Lorcan rolled his eyes. "You're both stupid.

"You know you love me!" cried Lysander.

"No," said Lorcan.

"What!?" Lysander released Jase and slapped his hands on either side of his face.

Jase laughed and stepped away from the twins (he didn't want to get caught in the middle of that).

"Look out," said Jordy. "Here come the fans."

The Gryffindor Quidditch team turned to see the mass of red and gold storm onto the field. Their arms and banners waving wildly with feverish excitement. They were frightening in their enthusiasm.

Jase caught sight of Robert and he grinned. They two friends high-fived and laughed.

"Like a pro," said Robert.

"Hardly," said Jase. "Besides, it's only natural. My mom was pro."

"Oh Ginny Potter," said Robert, sighing. "If Professor Chang wasn't my true love, I would have fallen hard for your mother."

"That's nasty!" cried Jase, punch Robert on the shoulder. "Don't ever speak of that again."

"No promises," said Robert.

"Potter!"

Jase rolled his eyes. "Here comes the crazy woman."

"Brace yourself," said Robert.

Jase turned around to see the short, thin, brown haired Ravenclaw making her way through the crowd of people. Her blue eyes were narrowed and she pushed two Gryffindors apart to stand in front of Jase. She placed her hands on her hips and surveyed him suspiciously.

"Hey, Bridget," said Jase.

"You missed that shot on he right hand side," said Bridget.

"I know."

"Scamander gave you the perfect shot."

"I know."

"You should have gone far the near hoop instead of the far."

"I know."

"The keeper was in the wrong position."

"I know."

Bridget nodded. "As long as you know."

"Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are playing next, right?" said Robert.

"Are you concerned?" asked Bridget. "Don't be. With a chaser like me on the team—what does Ravenclaw have to worry about?"

"A lot," said Robert.

Bridget's eyes narrowed. "Don't be a jerk."

"Thanks for congratulating me," said Jase, grinning.

"I didn't come here to congratulate you," said Bridget stiffly. "I came to make sure you know the mistakes you made. There was also that time when you passed to Scamander when you should have passed to McGibbons. You have to look at the options."

"Thank you, Bridget," said Robert, pushing Jase in the opposite direction.

Jase grinned at her over his shoulder and waved. "See you later!"

"I can't stand her," said Robert.

"She's so nice," said Jase. "Coming all this way to congratulate me."

"She just criticized you," said Robert.

"That's because she's shy," said Jase. "You have to look underneath her words. It's like a cake. You have to eat the icing to find out what kind of cake is underneath—chocolate or vanilla."

"You're strange," said Robert. "How is it that you always manage to befriend the weird ones?"

"I'm friends with you," said Jase.

"Speaking of the weird ones," said Robert, coming to an abrupt halt.

Scorpius stood amongst the crowd of red supporters. He stuck out like a sore thumb in his plain black clothes. He seemed a little lost and incredibly uncomfortable, especially when the Gryffindors kept shooting him disgusted looks.

"Scorpius!" cried Jase. He left Robert's side and bounded across the field. "Did you see my awesomeness?"

"You missed a lot," said Scorpius.

"You're just jealous," said Jase. "I bet you love Quidditch now. You want to play now, huh? After this defeat, I'm sure Slytherin will be looking for new players."

"I'm good," said Scorpius. His gray eyes flickered to the right and then he snorted. "No, thanks."

"Huh?" Jase glanced over his shoulder. Then, he turned back to Scorpius. "Is it Tom again?"

Scorpius shrugged.

Jase laughed and wrapped and arm around Scorpius' shoulders. "You've got to introduce me to Tom one day. I want in one your little secret!"

"You don't want to meet him," said Scorpius.

"What? He sounds awesome," said Jase.

"Just warning you." Scorpius pushed Jase's arm off his shoulder. "I'm going. I just stop by to congratulate you. You weren't as bad as I thought you'd be."

"Say what!?

Scorpius made his way through the crowd, dodging the chatting friends. Jase probably would have followed Scorpius, but he was interrupted by his brother. Albus stood in front of Jase, a warm smile on his little face.

"Hey," said Jase.

"Nice going," said Albus. "Dad'll be proud."

"Yeah." Jase smiled at his brother. "You think so?"

"Definitely. I'll write to him and tell him." Albus's smile faltered a little. "You shouldn't make friends with a Slytherin."

Jase frowned. "Why not?"

Albus stared at his brother. There was something eerie about him that Jase couldn't quite describe. There was a… a flat look in his eyes. Flat was the best word. Flat.

"You shouldn't make friends with a Slytherin," repeated Albus. Then, he turned around and walked away.

Jase watched his brother go. A smile immediately replaced his frown and Albus chatted happily with his friends. Rose laughed and started talking about something excitedly. She seemed to be reenacting a play from the game. Albus laughed. The flat look had disappeared from his eyes and he seemed normal again. Jase was still frowning.

"What was that about?" asked Robert.

"I have no idea."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please review?**


	16. Fifteen: Scorpius' Rant

**A/N: I hated writing this chapter, for obvious reason. But it had to be done. **

**Thanks for reading and please, please, please, please, please leave a review.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen: Scorpius' Rant<strong>

"Checkmate."

Scorpius stared at the black bishop for a moment, trying to find some way to escape the piece's range. Slowly, he came to accept that there was no escape and he leaned back in the black leather armchair and sighed. "You win."

Draco Malfoy smiled at his son, his gray eyes creasing at the edges. "Maybe next time."

"Of course," said Scorpius. "I won't keep losing to you forever. Eventually, you will become old and senile and won't remember what your last move was right after you made it."

Draco chuckled. "And you will beat me then?"

"Definitely."

"We've raised another Malfoy Slytherin," said Draco, picking up the chess pieces and placing them back in their starting positions.

"Good," grunted Lucius Malfoy.

Three generations of Malfoy men sat in one living room. Malfoy Manor was grand and even the sitting room for casual evenings was filled with expensive furnishings. The floor itself was black and white checked tiles supporting black leather couches and armchairs and a large bookshelf spanning the length of one wall. The side table was an antique from Scorpius' great-great-grandfather and the painting of a dead tree that hung over the mantelpiece was done by Scorpius' fifth cousin three times removed. The fireplace was made of white brick and orange flames licked the soot walls of the chimney. Scorpius and his father sat closest to the fireplace, having pulled to armchairs face-to-face with each other so that the father and son could enjoy a healthy game of chess. The grandfather sat on the couch at the opposite end of the room, as far away from the fireplace and he could get. He was read—or at least pretending to read—the Daily Prophet.

"Any news on the muggle-style murders?" asked Draco as he got to his feet and lifted the little black table bearing the chessboard back into its allotted corner.

"No," said Lucius. "It's been quiet for a month or so now."

Draco nodded once. He set down the black table and then moved his armchair back to its position beside the table. Scorpius mimicked his father, sliding the heavy chair across the tile floor. A silence fell upon the Malfoy living room. In any other family, the silence would be a mark of the estranged relationship, but to Malfoy family, it was the silence that filled the space when speech was unnecessary. Malfoys were, for the most part, not a talkative group.

Lucius had been influential in his days at the ministry, but not because he chatted up the head of offices. Lucius had an intense, commanding manner that did not require speech to again respect. By nature, Lucius was a quiet man, speaking only when he deemed it necessary.

Draco, according to Lucius, had been more talkative and open in his youth (he got that from his mother) and the silent nature of the Malfoys, though Draco understood it, had to be taught to him. Now, after the events of Voldemort's death and the coming of maturity, Draco had become a proud, reserved man.

Scorpius was, perhaps, the halfway point between his grandfather and father. He had the reticent personality of his grandfather, but lacked the severity, possessing a more open personality (Scorpius had yet to fully discover and explore that side of himself).

In the end, the Malfoy family found silence to be a form of communication just as much as speech. They had mastered the art of understand each other through simple movements. Take the Christmas scene for example, Draco sat down beside his father on the black leather couch. Lucius handed his some the newspaper. Scorpius examined the bookshelf and pulled off a thick brown book that contained stories of the ancient Malfoys. Scorpius glanced at his father. Draco nodded in approval—the book was a good read. Scorpius nodded in thanks. Lucius looked at Scorpius. Scorpius pulled off another book for Lucius and brought it to him. Lucius thanks Scorpius. Scorpius sat down in the armchair beside the fire. An entire exchange and not a word spoken. The silence of the Malfoy family.

"I brought biscuits!"

Well, except for Astoria. But she technically wasn't a Malfoy.

She opened the door of the living room and waltzed in carrying a large silver tray filled with homemade chocolate biscuits. She offered the tray first to Lucius who took one to be polite. Draco smile fondly at his wife and took one. Then, she pranced to the other side of the room and plopped down on the armrest of Scorpius' armchair.

"I'm good," said Scorpius.

"You're not going to eat one of your mother's biscuits?" asked Astoria in fake shock. "I'm offended."

Scorpius sighed and took a biscuit.

Astoria laughed and ruffled her son's white-blond hair fondly. "Good boy. As a reward, I'll give you the letter."

Scorpius glanced up at his mother in confusion.

She pulled an envelope out of the pocket of her jeans and handed it to Scorpius. It took Scorpius a moment to recognize the handwriting on the front of the envelope. As soon as he did, a groan escaped him. "Jase."

"Who?" asked Draco.

Scorpius carefully opened the seal on the back of the envelope and slid the letter out. Jase had written in bright green ink, his usually chicken scratch made even more illegible by the ridiculous color.

_Hey Scorpius!_

_ It's me. Jase. _

_ Surprise!_

_ How's your Christmas going? Have you opened presents yet? I'm actually writing this on Christmas Eve, so I haven't yet. But I already know Mum got me a new broom and Aunt Hermione got me a book on Quidditch. How do I know, you ask. It's a little skill I like to call Present Snooping. If you poke and prod every present under the tree, you're bound to figure out what some of them are. Of course, there was that one year where Mom bought Lily a cat and Lily decided to shake the box with holes in it. That didn't end well. Thankfully, the cat experienced no serious trauma._

_ Anyway, I'm bored. I get sick of being locked away with my family all Christmas. We should meet up at Diagon Alley some time. You, me, and Robert. It'll be awesome!_

_ Merry Christmas,_

_ Jase_

When Scorpius had finished the letter, he sighed and folded the parchment back up and placed it in the envelope again. Jase was incorrigible. Scorpius glanced up at his family and saw that they were all giving him their best "Who as that and what did he want?" stares. Scorpius shrugged. "Jase Potter."

"Potter?" asked Astoria.

The disapproving frowns were plastered on his family's faces.

Scorpius shrugged again. "Not all Gryffindors are bad."

"No," said Draco. There was still a scowl on his face. Scorpius could see it in his eyes. It was not that all Gryffindors were bad; it was just that the _Potters_ were bad.

* * *

><p>Christmas was Astoria's favorite holiday. Every year, despite the Malfoy men's protests, she forced them to dress up in their best clothes and attend a grand Christmas dinner that she prepared by herself without any aid from House Elves (though Scorpius' grandmother, Narcissa, insisted on helping). She made beautiful plates of roast turkey, mashed potatoes, roasted onions, the lot and then decorated the dining room for the occasion. This year's theme was winter wonderland. Never-melting icicles hung from the ceiling and the floor was frosted. The table cloth was a blueish white that matched the praying snow angel in the far corner of the room. To a stranger, the Malfoy dining room would have seemed a work of art. To the Malfoys, it was just another Christmas with Astoria.<p>

"It looks lovely," said Draco, kissing his wife on the cheek. 9His compliment was for the sake of spousal obligation rather than heartfelt amazement.)

"Oh stop," said Astoria, laughing.

Soon enough, the Malfoys were seated around the dinner table, eating their abnormally-large-for-five-people Christmas dinner. Lucius, Draco, and Scorpius were characteristically silent throughout the meal, speaking only when required, while Astoria did most of the talking. Narcissa cut in occasionally, but over the years she had developed low-level dementia and the loss of her memory caused her to sink into a stupor.

Scorpius took small bits of his mashed potatoes, watching his mother talking excitedly.

"I actually had a conversation with Ginny Potter last week," said Astoria. "If you can believe it."

Scorpius swallowed and then took a bite of turkey.

"We were discussing the most recent issue of the Daily Prophet. She writes quite good articles about Quidditch."

Draco chewed carefully, watching his wife through misted gray eyes.

"She seems like a nice person—if her son is anything like her, I can understand why you're friends, Scorpius. She's quite pretty too and she has great clothes." Astoria frowned. "I wonder if I can convince her to come shopping with me one day. I must know where she gets those skirts."

Lucius took a sip of wine and dabbed at his lips with a napkin. "You should not get too friendly with a blood traitor."

Draco and Scorpius exchanged glances. A few years ago, Draco had sat down his son and discussed Lucius Malfoys prejudices and that, in no way, should his grandfather's beliefs affect Scorpius. Draco and Scorpius had reached an agreement to remain silent whenever Lucius said anything hateful about muggleborns or blood traitors.

"So," said Astoria. "How's the cranberries? My sister gave me the recipe to try out."

"It's nice," said Narcissa.

"Thank you," said Astoria. She glanced at Draco who was holding his fork, but not eating. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no." Draco quickly placed his form down on the table. "I think I am full."

"I hope you saved room for dessert," said Astoria.

"Of course."

"It's chocolate rum pots—your favorite."

Draco smiled.

"Master Malfoy! Master Malfoy!"

Scorpius paused, his form halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he turned around in his chair to see a small house elf, Dinkle, standing amongst the winter wonderland. At first, Scorpius thought Dinkle had changed from his usual pillow case to a red dishrag as his clothing of choice, but then Scorpius realized that it was the some filthy pillowcase that Dinkle always wore—only this one was stained with blood.

The house elf was covered in a thin layer of sweat and his breathing was fast and heavy. He could barely stand on his own, let alone choke the words out to tell us what happened.

"Dinkle!" cried Astoria, leaping to her feet. "Are you okay? What happened? Should I call St. Mungo's?" She sprinted towards the kitchen where the first-ever phone to enter Malfoy Manor hung on the wall.

"Wait!" croaked Dinkle, but Astoria had already disappeared behind swinging doors.

"What is it?" asked Lucius. "What's wrong?"

"Guns," said Dinkle. "They're here with guns."

"Who are?" asked Draco.

Dinkle's brown eyes grew very wide and he gasped. His bony legs collapsed beneath him and Dinkle fell to the floor in a heap of rags and blood.

"Dinkle?" asked Narcissa.

Draco spun around and caught his father's eyes. Some sort of understanding passed between Draco and Lucius. Scorpius stared at his father and grandfather and, for the first time since he was born, Scorpius could not comprehend the trademark Malfoy silence. He craved for his father to speak, to explain the situation. Silence would not suffice.

"Scorpius!" cried Draco, grabbing his son by the wrist.

Their eyes met.

"What?" asked Scorpius.

"The living room," said Draco. "Behind the fireplace. Take your grandmother with you."

"Mother?" asked Scorpius.

"I'll get her."

The words had barely left Draco's mouth when the sharp explosion of a gunshot penetrated the wall of the Manor. Scorpius's heart dropped through the bottom of his stomach and then rose again, pounding in his chest with the thunder of fear.

"Mother," gasped Scorpius.

"Go," said Draco, pushing his son in the direction of the living room door. "Behind the fireplace. Now."

Scorpius took a deep breath. Breathe. That was the key. Calm. Do not be afraid. He was a Malfoy. Malfoys do not show emotions. Malfoys are strong. Malfoys will do what's necessary to survive. No matter what.

Scorpius caught hold of Narcissa's hand. Her thin, gray hair was messy, thrown out of its neat bun in some faces. Her eyes were glassy and teary though she did not fully comprehend the situation. The sight of her grandson seemed to calm her down and her withed face that had been ridden with wrinkles of worry relaxed a little.

"Come," said Scorpius.

He led his grandmother through the backdoor of the dining room, which led to the black and white living room where he had been playing chess with his father before. The door sung shut before Scorpius could get a last look at his father. The sudden urge to turn around, throw open the door, give his father a hug that Malfoys so rarely exchanged, and then retreat into the living room possessed Scorpius. But Scorpius knew how dangerous and stupid such an action would be. He squeezed his grandmother's hand and led her to the fireplace.

The Malfoy Manor contained multiple secret passages and rooms. The Malfoy family had been exceedingly superstitious centuries back and had sought to hide from evil spirits and the like in the compartments of the house. After the first fall of Voldemort, the secret passageways were used to hide dark magic. Now, the compartments were used to hide from enemies.

Scorpius pressed on one of the bricks in the fireplace—eleven up from the ground, closest to the wall—and the white-wood wall swung open, revealing a six by six closest that was filled with books on the dark arts. Scorpius and Narcissa slid into the closest and Scorpius moved to shut the door.

Another gunshot went off.

Scorpius stared across the room at the door. He couldn't go back. Not now. But he couldn't even picture his father's face.

Scorpius pulled the secret door shut.

Another gunshot—like a crack of thunder across the sky.

The calm that had momentarily settled of Scorpius shattered as though _it_ had been struck by the bullet. All the panic and worry came flooding back. Scorpius was gasping in quick breaths. He chest heaved up and down. Tears fell down his face in rivers. Where was his mother? Was she safe? Maybe they had not found her in the kitchen. Where was his father? Had he found Mother? And Grandfather? He was alright, right? No one could kill Grandfather, right?

"Scorpius."

A light, cold hand rested on Scorpius's shoulder, the thumb brushing against his neck. Narcissa leaned forward and whispered in her hoarse, breaking voice. "We must be very quiet."

A fourth gunshot went off and a fifth quickly followed.

"Why?" whispered Scorpius. He gulped, trying to stop the tears.

"Hush."

The sound of a door opening.

Footsteps.

Scorpius's heart was pounding. He couldn't hear anything but the drumming of his heartbeat.

"Where is he?"

"The son and Narcissa are missing."

"You shouldn't have shot the house elf."

"It was an accident. I thought he was the son."

"Scorpius is taller than that, Harry."

"My mistake."

"He's not here."

"Hermione? Can you do a spell?"

"I can try." There was a pause and the woman muttered and incantation. "No. There's no one left."

"They must have gotten out."

"Yeah."

The footsteps moved away, their sounding fading and eventually dying. Even when the danger seemed to have passed, Scorpius and Narcissa remained walled up inside the closet. Narcissa had wrapped her arms around Scorpius's shoulders as he sobbed into her arms, clinging onto her warmth as tightly as he could.


	17. Sixteen: Harry's Rant

**Chapter Sixteen: Harry's Rant**

Harry Potter ever meant to become a vigilante. Three years ago, if someone asked him what he thought of taking the law into his own hands and administering justice as he saw fit, Harry would have laughed. The law was in place for a reason.

All Harry had ever wanted—all those years of fighting Voldemort—was a quiet life. To settle down with Ginny, raise a family, get a stable career—he just wanted normal. And Harry achieved that for awhile. But then he began to grow restless. His career as an auror was lacking. Crime rates had gone down since there was no Dark Lord to face after the fall of Lord Voldemort. There was nothing for Harry to do.

The turning point was two years ago. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were out for a night, having a few drinks in London while Ginny stayed at home with the kids. The trio had been slightly tipsy, but in a goods mood, chatting about the old days when they camped across country. They were walking back to the car when Harry saw it. A mugging. He intervene and found that the perpetrator had a gun. A gun. A weapon that not only the shield charm could defend against. Thankfully, Harry had the sharp skills of a Quidditch player and he swatted the gun out of the mugger's hands. The mugger had gone for Hermione. Harry had fire the gun. And next thing they knew, the mugger was dead.

At that point, Harry had killed two people in his life. The first being Voldemort, who had deserved every second of his death for all the atrocities he had committed against the wizarding and muggle world. The mugger was the second.

There was something different about holding a gun and firing at someone. Watching the physical bullet hit a physical body. It was heavier. With spells, you wave your wand and something happens—but you don't _see _t, you don't _feel_ it. It's light. With a gun. With a gun you feel the gravity of the crime. Harry understood this and understanding horrified him, but it also exhilarated him. _That_ was what it was like to do justice. To feel the weight of a gun snapping in your hands. Justice is not light, there is the guilt of the punisher as well as the guilt of punished.

That moment, the moment where Harry saved a good man's life and in return took a bad man's life, that Harry realized the value of being a vigilante. There were some things the law cannot do—like punish the Death Eaters who remained at large, punish the corrupt government, punish the amoral. The law could not do so without evidence. But a vigilante…A vigilante could strike at the source. There was no waiting in courts. There was no escape. The judgment of the vigilante was the only judgment to be faced. And as long as Harry was certain of the guilty, there could be no fault in killing the evil.

Ron and Hermione were not on board straight away. The first time Harry proposed that they kill a powerful member of the wizarding mafia, Hermione had looked scandalized.

"Harry Potter would never say such things," she had said.

Ran had not said anything. Partly because he agreed with Harry and partly because he agreed with his wife.

But some part of them—some part of Ron and Hermione must have felt the same itch that Harry felt. That same need to do _something_. It was intolerable to sit around and live an average life. Wake up in the morning. Go to work. Come home. Go to bed. There was nothing interesting. Nothing to keep them alive.

They went out one night (Hermione reluctantly) and found a man named Tomas Turnbout. He was a wizarding conman who tricked widows out of the wealth their husbands left them. The Golden Trio had found him, the treacherous man who had ruined so many lives.

"Do you repent?"

"For what?

With a flick of Harry's wand, the man was dead.

But there was nothing satisfying about waving a wand. Harry did not feel just. He felt cruel.

The next time they went out, Harry brought a gun. They found a muggle convict, a murderer and shot him twice in the head. Justice had returned.

At first, Hermione insisted on only using the gun on muggle criminals. It would be too suspicious if wizards started dying at the hands of a muggle weapon. But, bit by bit, as she began to pull the trigger too, Hermione began to understand the weight of justice. And soon, all the killings were done with a gun.

"Do you repent?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"No. I know you. You will do it again."

It was handy to be one of the head aurors. It was easy to use the information system to find information and locations on criminals. No one suspected that Harry was the vigilante behind the killings. No one suspected an auror, who administered justice as a job, would be doing so at night as well.

Of course, not everyone saw Harry's work as justice. He understood that. At first, Harry wanted to explain what he was doing to the press, make them understand, but Hermione insisted that the wizarding world—by law—could not agree with Harry's actions. So these acts were forced into secret, in the dead of night, undercover.

Harry, for the most part, had avoided Death Eaters. They had lost Voldemort, the source of their power, and most of them had reformed to productive members of society. But always, always the thought floated at the back of Harry's mind that no Death Eater was ever truly reformed. Even Snape, who had loved his mother and sacrificed everything to save her son, was still a Death Eater at heart. His actions had been cruel, aiming to traumatize Harry as a student. Snape had taught him that. Death Eaters will always be Death Eaters.

The first Death Eater Harry killed was Draco Malfoy.

No, technically it was Lucius Malfoy—who threw himself in front of his son when the gun went off—that Harry killed first.

But it was Draco Malfoy, Harry's schoolmate, who stood over his dead wife, Astoria's body, pale and shiking, that Harry remembered when he thought of dead Death Eaters.

It was Jase, actually, that brought Harry to Malfoy Manor. He would have left the Death Eaters alone for quite awhile if it had not been for Jase's constant talk about his school life, particularly his new best friend, Scorpius Malfoy.

Plagued. That's what Jase was. Plagued by the Slytherin thought. Soon, Jase would start calling Aunt Hermione a mudblood and Ginny a blood traitor. Harry knew it. Jase was a good boy, but he could not differentiate between the good and the bad as easily as Albus could.

Death Eaters were bad.

"Do you repent?" asked Harry ash e fingered the revolved in his right had.

Standing on the opposite side of the kitchen table, Draco glowered at Harry. "Why are you doing this?"

Harry fired the gun.

Draco, of course, had incredible Quidditch skills as well. He dove out of the way at the last second and the bullet embedded itself in the wall.

"That was a lucky shot," said Harry. "The world must want you to repent."

"Like hell," spat Draco.

Harry fired the gun again. This time, it did not miss.

Draco looked so fragile as a corpse. He'd been proud all his life. Prouder than Harry. And look where he was now. Dead. On the floor of his own home. Look where all that Slytherin pride got him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Reviews? Anyone? Please? I'll love you forever...**


	18. Seventeen: Voldemort's Rant

**Chapter Seventeen: Voldemort's Rant**

Sometimes it seemed as though my war against Dumbledore would never end. I would just keep fighting and fighting until I could no longer stand. I had dreams that all my hair fell out and I sprouted scales and turned into a snake that could only crawl about on his belly with agonizing pain. The battlefield was grueling. I lost many friends and I took many friends. Dark times that was how I thought of it. Dark times in my life.

I was a chameleon. When I wanted to charm people, I could be a graceful young man. When I wanted to intimidate people, I could be cruel Dark Lord. When I wanted to see sympathetic, I could talk with tears in my eyes. There became fewer and fewer people I could be myself around until, at last, I barely resembled the outgoing, young man I once was. No more parties. No more late night gossip sessions. Things like singing Bon Jovi's Shout Through The Heart at the top of my lungs was no long possible. I attach the mask of the Dark Lord to my face and, after a while, the mask became my true face.

Despite my drastic change in personality, my Death Eaters, my friends, stuck by me. Despite the dangerous situations that arose, they stood by my side and promised to fight with me to the bitter end. I sacrificed my soul for them and they would give anything for me.

They should have been in Gryffindor.

Oh shoot. I'm crying. Don't mind me. Just a stupid little wisp here. Sniffling like a baby.

My friends always said I was a big emotional and daft baby

Okay, Tom, Hold it together. Breathe. That's the key.

I've got this.

One of the late-to-join members of the Death Eaters was Peter Pettigrew. He was one of James Potter's old school friends. I was surprised. I hadn't expected to convert a Gryffindor. But, hey, who was I to complain? I accepted Peter into our fold like one of our own and he came gladly.

Peter saw Dumbledore's cruelty. He saw Dumbledore crave the power of the Elder Wand. He knew that Dumbledore could not be trusted and I was right. So, Peter came to us and we welcomed him. He took on the role of a double agent, pretending to be on Dumbledore's side while feeding information to our side. He told me he felt bad for betraying his friends like that, but he needed to do what was right by him. He was a noble man.

We had great times together, Peter and I. I brought him to France once and taught him how to please the French ladies—if you know what I mean. (That was one of those rare holidays where I could peel off the Dark Lord mask and do musical renditions without being questioned.)

It was Peter who heard the prophecy, you know. Peter and Severus together, actually. Two good friends of mine just happened to be in Hogsmeade the weekend Dumbledore decided to meet with his new Divination instructor. I had them to check it out, just in case the professor was a threat.

It was there, ears pressed against the doorframe that Peter and Severus heard the true prophecy.

_The Vigilante approaches. Born to those who died for him, born to the waning seventh month, born to the hollow home. His name will ring in every household, bringing joy and dread, The Adversary will mark him as the Vigilante and the true war shall begin._

What? Did you hear a different prophecy? The prophecy where the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, precious Harry Potter was marked by the Dark Lord, by You Know Who? The prophecy will Neither Shall Live While The Other Survives? You heard that prophecy? What? What? WHAT?

Dumbledore lied.

It's what he does. He's an evil criminal mastermind. He lies about these things.

Three people heard the true prophecy. Peter, Severus, and Dumbledore. Peter and Severus told me what was really said. And Dumbledore… Dumbledore created a fake prophecy. One that would allow him to use the Vigilante to his advantage.

Upon hearing the prophecy, I figured I was the Adversary and the Vigilante was a baby soon to be born and I was going to spend my entire life hunting this Vigilante. Eventually, I found two possible families—the Longbottoms and the Potters. Why did I choose the Potters, you might ask? I honestly have no clue. It was gut instinct. Something deep inside of me said—Harry Potter.

Dumbledore knew that I had heard the true prophecy. He knew that I would try to kill the Vigilante. He knew. So, he did everything in his power to keep Harry Potter alive. He hid the Potters. (Unfortunately, for him, the Potters used Peter Pettigrew as their secret keeper.) But that was not the only magic Dumbledore used to protect the Potters. He placed dark magic on baby Harry Potter. Dark magic. Magic that not even I would dare to use.

It was not love that saved Harry Potter. Yes, I admit that in my desperation I killed Lily and James Potter. But it was not their noble sacrifice that saved Harry. It was Dumbledore's dark magic.

A spell that would trade my life for Harry's.

When I tried to kill Harry, I died instead. And all Harry got was a cute little lightning scar.

I lived by my ideals until the end. I dying by my ideals. I was reborn by my ideals. And I will refuse death until the wizarding world has seen the last of Albus Dumbledore and his protégé, Harry freaking Potter.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I had like 80% of this chapter already written (sorry). But here it is - Voldemort's Rant! Please review. And please don't hate me for not updating sooner...**


	19. Eighteen: James' Rant

**Chapter Eighteen: James' Rant**

The return from Christmas Break brought with it dreadful news—the death of the Malfoy family. Jase didn't remember who told him first, but soon the word had spread throughout the school and it seemed as though everyone was talking about how someone had slipped into Malfoy Manor unnoticed and killed Draco Malfoy, his wife Astoria and his father Lucius. Scorpius Malfoy and his grandmother survived by hiding in a secret passageway.

Whenever Jase compared his own Christmas break—which had been filled with laughter, eggnog, family hugs, and presents—to Scorpius's tragedy, a lump of guilt formed in Jase's throat. He had returned to Hogwarts with a smile on his face, while Scorpius had returned with the burden of misfortune. Wherever Scorpius walked, it seemed as though whispers followed him. He moved with his head down and his eyes filled with a deep loathing for the other students of Hogwarts. Jase had tried to approach Scorpius on several occasions, but the look Scorpius gave him was enough to send Jase scuttling in the opposite direction.

"He can't stay isolated forever," said Jase, prodding his breakfast omelet with a fork.

"He's a Slytherin," said Robert. "It's what they do. They go all brooding and moody and they don't like other human beings."

"How do you know what a Slytherin is like?" asked Jase. "The only contact you have with them is because a teacher forces you to partner in class."

"Those were trying times," said Robert with a dramatic sigh.

"The point is," said Jase. "Scorpius is human. His family has just died. He needs comfort just as much as you or I would need comfort." Jase drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

From his seat, he could see Scorpius on the other side of the Great Hall. The skinny, blond first year was accompanied by a couple other Slytherins. While Scorpius glowered at his meal, the other Slytherins seemed to be talking and laughing and trying to include Scorpius in their conversation.

"We're his friends," said Jase. "We should make the effort."

"Friends?" Robert let out a bark of laughter. "At most, he's a fellow Cho Chang lover. But that's _it_. He's a Slytherin."

Jase felt his throat thickened. It wasn't that he hated Robert or anything—Robert had simply spoken the views of many Gryffindors. The feel that clung to Jase like cobwebs was that of disappointment. Disappointment that his own friend could not look past the label of "Slytherin" to see a suffering human being.

Jase managed a half-hearted smile. "Well, I'm going to go talk to Scorpius."

"Good luck with that," said Robert. "Last time you talked to him, he nearly scratched your eyes out."

* * *

><p>Jase caught Scorpius between classes. He could recognize that head of silver-blond hair from a mile away. Weaving through the crowd of students, Jase reached out and caught Scorpius by the arm. Scorpius spun around his gray eyes burning with annoyance.<p>

"What do you want?" asked Scorpius.

Now that he actually stood face to face, Jase found that there was nothing to say to Scorpius. After a moment's debate, all he came up with was, "How are you?"

Scorpius stared at Jase, scrutinizing ever line in his face. Finally, Scorpius said, "Fine."

"That's a lie," said Jase.

"Then why did you ask?" Scorpius shifted the books in his hands and glanced down the hall towards the Transfiguration classroom.

"Because I suck at common sense," said Jase. "Really, you should see my mother talk about me…" Jase trailed off. He might as well just beat his head against a brickwall.

"You should just stop talking," said Scorpius.

"I should," said Jase, nodding eagerly. "But I want to know if you need anything. Can I help you, at all? If you need a shoulder to cry on, I have one. Two, actually, I have two shoulders. Double the tears."

Scorpius stared. "I'm late for class."

"You have five minutes until you're officially late," said Jase. "I've been going to this school for longer than you—the exact time that class begins has been engrained into the very essence of my being."

He grinned at Scorpius and waited for the laughter or at least a little smile, but Scorpius stared at Jase stony-faced and didn't say a word.

"Come on," said Jase. "I'm dropping comedic gold here."

"Go away," said Scorpius.

"What?"

"Go away." Scorpius's voice was low and deadly.

"Hey, man," said Jase. There was a quavering laugh to his voice. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying go away."

Jase was suddenly aware that students in the hall was stopped and were listening to their conversation. Jase swallowed back his indignation and said, still trying to sound cordial, "Look. What happened to you is tragic and terrible and I hope the bastard responsible gets what's coming to him, but you can't shut people out. You have friends. We're here for you. I'm here for you."

"I'm not shutting people out," said Scorpius flatly. "Just you."

It would have been less painful if Scorpius had slapped him across the face. Jase stood there, opening and closing his mouth like some kind of idiot.

"What?" Jase croaked.

"I am telling you to go away," said Scorpius. "Is that so hard to understand?"

"Why?"

"Because I hate you." There was no emotion behind Scorpius's voice. He sounded almost bored, as if he was rattling off facts in class.

The pain that struck Jase had doubled in size. From somewhere deep inside of him, Jase managed to summon a grin. "Man, you have got to be joking. We're friends. You're going to be one of my groomsmen in my wedding to Professor Cho Chang."

And then, Scorpius uttered the cruelest words imaginable. "I lied. It's amusing how you believed. I never had a crush on Cho Chang and, frankly, I find your feelings for her disturbing."

"Ah-heh." Jase was still smiling, though he had forgotten why. "I see how it is. Your parents die and you decide to use that as an excuse to become a complete asshat."

Jase turned around and left, leaving Scorpius and the audience behind him. He could hear the whispers chase after him down the halls, but Jase paid no mind. He didn't even go to his Defense Against The Dark Arts class, but made his way out onto the grounds.

Fresh snow had fallen the night before and Jase's shoes crunched as he walked along the white blanket. Hogwarts looked stunning in the winter—like one of the muggle postcards that Grandpa Weasley liked to obsess over. The surface of the lake had frozen over and the mountains in the distant wore white hats and coats. The fur trees supported lumps of snow that, with the slightest breeze, would come crashing down. It was icy outside and his scarf and sweater were not enough to keep him warm. Nevertheless, Jase continued walking until he reached the edge of the Great Lake. He took a deep breath and collapsed onto the bank.

"How you doin' Chester?" asked Jase.

There was no response.

"Can you even hear me through the ice?"

Since Chester didn't respond, Jase took it as a 'no'. However, he leaned back, placing his hands on his knees, and told Chester the whole story of his fight with Scorpius.

"I fail at being a friend, don't I?" said Jase. "There's something really obvious here that I'm missing. People don't just start hating other people out of the blue, do they? Okay, it's not out of the blue. His parents died—and oh damn, did I just tell him that he was using his parent's deaths as an excuse to be an asshat?" Jase buried his face in his hands and groaned. "I'm a terrible friend. Go on, Chester, tell me. I'm a terrible friend and I should be drowned in the Great Lake for ever thinking such things, let alone saying them."

Chester did not break through the ice, grab Jase with a wet tentacle, and throw him into the freezing winter water, so Jase assumed that what he had said to Scorpius was not worth eternal damnation.

Jase grinned at the lake. "There's a reason you're going to be the best man at my wedding with Cho Chang, Chester."

Chester didn't respond. He didn't have to. Jase knew what was in his heart.

"Are you talking to yourself again?"

Bridget Finnigan, better dressed for the cold in a bright-blue winter jacket, sat down on the bank beside Jase. Jase tilted his head to the side and grinned at the Ravenclaw girl.

"And what do I owe this fine visit from her highness?" asked Jase.

"I heard about your fight with Scorpius."

Jase groaned. "Does the gossip mill really run that fast?"

"Oh yes." Bridget picked up a clump of snow in her gloved hand and grinned. "You should feel honored. I'm cutting Herbology to see you."

"Professor Longbottom will be please," said Jase. "You won't be there to blow up any plants."

"And this is why I shouldn't be nice to you," said Bridget, sighing.

"Sorry," said Jase. "I did just get jilted by my good friend today."

"Yeah, yeah," said Bridget. "Your best friend hates you so you decided to use that as an excuse to become a complete asshat."

She threw a handful of snow at Jase. The shock of frozen cold caused him to gasp. He brushed the snow away, though some flakes still clung to his messy black hair. He grinned at her before scooping up another handful of snow and throwing it at her. Bridget squealed and ducked out of the way.

"You're such a pansy," said Jase, laughing.

"Please," said Bridget. She tossed her brown hair over her shoulder and grinned. "I could beat you on the Quidditch pitch any old day."

"I'll believe it when I see it," said Jase.

The two of them sat on the snowy shores of the lake, staring out across the thick ice.

"You should try talking to Scorpius again," said Bridget.

"So we can fight again?" asked Jase. "No thanks."

"He's your friend."

"Maybe he's better off without a friend like me. He seems to think so." Jase turned a patch of snow over with his fingers. Unlike Bridget, he did not have gloves on and the snow burned against his exposed fingers.

"James Sirius Potter," said Bridget.

"I hate that name," said Jase, groaning. "Why can't I have my own name? Why can't I be called Kyle or Eddie or something?"

"Shut up, Eddie," said Bridget. "And listen to my words of wisdom."

Jase shut up.

"You are a brilliant friend," said Bridget. "You can be an insensitive asshole at times, sure, but you are a brilliant friend. You don't judge on who someone's parents are or what house they're in. You look at someone and you look at _them_. Nothing else." She leaned back and smiled. "When my father talks about his schooldays, I always imagine the Boy Who Lived to be just like you."

Jase snorted. "He's not. Trust me, he's not. Albus is the spitting image of him, not me."

Bridget glanced sidelong at Jase. "Then Harry Potter is not what a hero should be."

"You shouldn't say that," said Jase. "My father is a hero. He saved the wizarding world. He defeated the most evil wizard of all time. He cares for people. He loves his friends and will do anything to protect them. He wants what's best for the greater good and he spends every day fighting for it. Men like my father come around maybe once ina century."

"I'm just saying," said Bridget, getting to her feet. "That I can't imagine someone with Albus's personality saving the world."

"That's because you have no imagination," said Jase dryly.

Bridget kicked him lightly in the back. "Come on, stupid. We're going to be late for Charms. And I _know_ you can't be late for Charms."

"Of course!" cried Jase, leaping to his feet. "The beautiful, gorgeous, perfect Professor Chang awaits my charming smile."

"I'm sure she lives for it," said Bridget.

Laughing, Bridget lead the way across the grounds and back to the school building, while Jase walked beside her, sprouting praises for Cho Chang.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, I'm updating this one twice in one day because I feel guilty for not updating sooner. Jase and Scorpius drama! Dundun! (Sorry, no Voldy in the chappie) BUT PLEASE REVIEW. **

** On a completely unrelated note, please check out my original work called Chimera (posted on fictionpress and the link is on my profile page here). I've worked hard on it and I'm considering publishing on amazon at some point and I really, really, really want people to read it and tell me what needs improvement, what needs to stay, and anything else about the story that you can. Please? **


	20. Nineteen: Scorpius' Rant

**Chapter Nineteen: Scorpius' Rant**

Scorpius stood amongst his fellow Slytherins and stared up at fourteen figure flying about on broomsticks. He already regretted coming to the Quidditch match. It had been his grandmother's idea and Voldemort had supported it.

Ever since Christmas, his grandmother had been constantly writing to him at school, ensuring that he was all right. She encouraged him to socialize and to stay up to date with his friends. She knew that Christmas break had been heartbreaking—for both of them—but that did not mean that they could sit around and let the rest of the world pass them by—Lucius, Draco, and Astoria would not want that.

Whenever Scorpius received a letter from his grandmother, Voldemort had read it over his shoulder and made comments on how wise and wonderful Narcissa Malfoy was. Voldemort would then proceed to encourage Scorpius to listen to his grandmother's advice. To forgive Jase Potter for his father's—his disgusting. Malicious father—faults.

It had been a month since the murders and Scorpius had only gotten through it because of Voldemort. That insane Wisp would constantly try to distract Scorpius—he would make jokes, try to predict romances, tease unsuspecting students, and help Scorpius with homework. Voldemort had even taken to teaching Scorpius new spells. The distractions worked—to an extent. There were times when Scorpius needed to sit down and feel sorry for himself. And Voldemort was there, more than content to sit down next to Scorpius and not say a word. It made a lot more sense to Scorpius, why the Death Eaters were willing to follow Voldemort to their ends, why they were willing to risk everything for something Voldemort believed in, why the Malfoy family was willing to follow Voldemort unwaveringly.

So, in an attempt to please his grandmother and get Voldemort to stop nagging, Scorpius had gone to the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Quidditch game with Martin Selwyn and Diane Rookwood (Voldemort had refused to come, saying that Scorpius needed to make friends on his own). As Slytherins, it was their duty to cheer for any team besides Gryffindor. Martin and Diane (who Scorpius soon learned were the loudest first year students) shouted in support of Ravenclaw, while Scorpius quietly rooted for Jase Potter to score. Of course, the moment Scorpius realized he was rooting for Jase Potter, Scorpius felt nothing but immense disgust for himself. How could he cheer for Jase Potter—a _Potter_—the son of the man who killed Scorpius' parents?

Scorpius felt sick to his stomach and he glowered up at the red-clad Quidditch players. He hated all of them—Lysander and Lorcan Scamander, Annabelle McGibbons, Alexander Sloper, Jordy Harahan, David Chamber, and _especially_ Jase Potter. They were all right there with Harry Potter. They worshipped him. They saw him as a saint. Their hero, the man who saved them from Lord Voldemort—but in the end, Harry Potter was no more than the man that murdered Scorpius' family.

"Are you all right?" asked Diane. She was staring, wide-eyed, at Scorpius. "You look a little pale."

"Fine," said Scorpius. He leaned forward and gripped the wooden railing in front of him. He heard the referee blow her whistle and he looked up to see Jase and Bridget Finnegan exchanged playful insults. The sickly feeling in Scorpius' stomach intensified.

"I need to go," said Scorpius. "Homework."

"It's a Saturday," said Martin.

Scorpius ignored their protests and made his way through the packed stands of Slytherin students. He kept his head down, aware that pitying eyes were following him. He had been labeled as "That Tragic Kid" and they whispered about his sad story whenever he passed. He hated it. He wished they would keep their eyes to themselves—leave him and his misery be.

Scorpius descended the wooden staircase from the stands to the ground. The winter snow had melted momentarily, but the temperature had dropped below freezing again and it would not be long before the white cold returned. He reached the dirt path that cut through the green lawn and led back up to the castle. He snuggled in his black, winter robes and pulled the green and gray scarf up to cover his mouth. With a sigh, he started the trek back to the warm castle.

He did not get far, however, before someone called out his name. Reluctantly, Scorpius turned to see who had dared to approach "That Tragic Kid".

It was Zacharias Smith II, or Zack, as he preferred to be known. He must hate to be a repetition of the past, the same was Jase's name was—Scorpius cursed himself for thinking of freaking Jase Potter yet again.

He waited on the path and waited for Zack to catch up. The last time Scorpius had talked to the tall, blond boy was on the train to Hogwarts and it hadn't seemed as though Zack had liked him very much, so Scorpius could not imagine why the Hufflepuff (Zack was very Hufflepuff today with a yellow scarf, yellow hat, and yellow gloves) would want to talk to him.

"It's so cold," said Zack, when he reached Scorpius. "Do you mind if I walk back with you?"

"Yes," said Scorpius.

Zack laughed (apparently, not realizing that Scorpius was serious) and started walking. Scorpius gave up and walked alongside the older boy. Suddenly, it seemed as though Zack had nothing to say. They trudged along in silence, staring in opposite directions, but never acknowledging one another's existence. Scorpius was puzzled by all this and, since he had absolutely no social skills, he saw no reason to remedy the awkward situation. The walk remained painfully silent.

It wasn't until they climbed the final hill on the ground and were almost to the doors of the castle that Zack finally found a voice.

"I'm sorry, you know," said Zack.

Scorpius stiffened. He didn't want to hear this. He had heard it many times over the past month and he had stopped caring. If anyone really felt sorry, they would believe Narcissa and Scorpius when they said the culprits were Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. If anyone really felt sorry, they would stop seeing the Malfoy family with the label "Death Eaters" and start seeing them a people—murdered people. But, of course, no one was really sorry. They were satisfying themselves. They wanted to be kind, benevolent beings who sympathize with the Tragic Kid, so they say they're sorry and that they understand and that they're always around to help if he needed a shoulder to try on. In the end, they hoped Scorpius would never take them up on their offer. In the end, they just wanted to play nice for their game of self-deception. And today, today Scorpius was having none of it.

"Stop," said Scorpius. "You exhaust me."

Zack paused. His body went rigid and he pulled himself up to his full height and stared down at Scorpius. "Now see here. I was being nice. I was trying to talk. I was trying to say—I'm sorry. No one deserves that. I know your parents were Death Eaters and I know they were Slytherins, but that doesn't make it right."

"You're not even trying to be nice," said Scorpius, flatly.

"And just because no one wants to accuse Harry Potter doesn't meant that people can pretend not to hear you," said Zack vehemently. "My father taught me to always question. Question and question until you can see the truth and I can see no reason for you and Narcissa to lie about your parents' murderer. So, I think, and you'd better not be spreading this around the school, but I think you may be telling the truth."

Scorpius stopped walking. He stared up at Zack and Zack stared solemnly back. For the first time in a long while, the pain in Scorpius' chest wasn't suffocating.

"Thanks," said Scorpius. "Thanks."

Zack smiled. "No problem. Though you'd better not go around telling people."

"I won't," said Scorpius. "Even the fact that I accused Harry Potter of the crime is kept secret."

"I know," said Zack. "My dad works for the ministry—that's how I know. He's on your side too—even though you're a Slytherin."

"Thanks," said Scorpius again.

"I'm freeze my nose off out here," said Zack. "You coming?"

He started towards the castle and Scorpius was about to follow when he saw the pale figure of Voldemort hovering outside the castle doors. Voldemort caught Scorpius' eyes and waved enthusiastically. He made some hand gestures, which Scorpius assumed to mean that Voldemort was proud of him for making new friends.

"I'm going to stay for a bit," said Scorpius. "I haven't talked to Chester in awhile."

"Who?" asked Zack.

"The Giant Squid," said Scorpius. He stopped himself from adding that Jase and Robert came up with the name.

Zack blinked. "You're weird." Then, with a friendly wave, Zack made his way back up to the castle.

Scorpius made his way down to the grassy bank of the lake. He settled on the shore and waited for Voldemort to join him. He didn't have to wait long. In a minute, the Wisp settled down on the bank next to Scorpius and hummed a cheery tune. Scorpius didn't have to look to know that Voldemort was grinning and thinking about how little Scorpius was growing up and making friends.

"I want to fight him," said Scorpius.

"Who?" asked Voldemort, suddenly frantic. "Zacharias Smith II? I thought you two were getting along great? Did I miss read the situation? Do I need to go haunt him for you?"

"Not him," said Scorpius. "Harry Potter. I want to fight him. I want to prove to the wizarding world that he is not a saint. I want to expose him and I want to stop him."

Voldemort sat in silence. The two of them stared out over the frozen lake and the hills beyond.

"You're eleven years old," said Voldemort.

"That means nothing," said Scorpius. "I just spent Christmas day listening to the sounds of my parents and grandfather dying. I am a hundred years old for all that matters."

Voldemort nodded slowly. "I will help you. In any way that I can."

"You dedicated your life to bringing down Harry Potter," said Scorpius. "Now I want to carry on the struggle."

"Do you know what that means?" asked Voldemort. "Do you know what that entails?"

"Yes."

"No," said Voldemort. He rose up to his full wisp height. "Look at me, Scorpius Malfoy—look at me. I am a wisp. I am not even human. I have one-seventh of a soul left. I have lost my face, my human identity. I am nothing more than a fragmented ghost barely clinging onto this world all because I dedicated my life to fighting Harry Potter—do you know what that _means_?"

Scorpius stared at the translucent face of Voldemort. His features were distinctly serpentine and his arms were thin and folded over his robes chest, he rest of him trailed off into a wisp of air—he was barely anything anymore.

"No," said Scorpius. "No, I don't. But this is something I must do. And there is no other way."

Voldemort collapsed back to the ground and sighed.

"It hurts," said Scorpius.

"Of course it does," said Voldemort. All traces of happiness had disappeared from his voice. "Even the loss of a complete stranger hurts in some way. But you, you lost your mother, your father, and your grandfather in one stroke. The pain must be excruciating."

"Not just that," said Scorpius.

Voldemort tilted his head to the side questioningly.

"I actually liked him," said Scorpius. "Jase. We were friends. He was funny. He was nice—for a Gryffindor. I actually liked him."

"You can still like him," said Voldemort. "Does Jase even know what his father did?"

"I don't know," said Scorpius. He pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. "I don't think so."

"Do you think Jase would approve if he knew what his father did?" asked Voldemort.

"No," said Scorpius. "He loathes murder. He and Robert were investigating the muggle-style vigilante murders." Scorpius stopped. "He'll never figure out the culprit."

"No," said Voldemort. "Not without realize that his father is the most evil wizard in all of Britain. And, I don't know about you, but I think Jase is going to have some trouble accepting that—"

Voldemort stopped talking.

"What?" asked Scorpius. He followed Voldemort's line of sight and turned to see the tall, black-haired Jase Potter, still dressed in his red Quidditch robes, standing behind him. Jase opened and closed his mouth a couple of times and then, finally, said, "Who are you talking to?"

"No one," said Scorpius.

"I heard voices." Jase glanced around Scorpius, but, of course, could not see the invisible wisp.

"I was talking to my imaginary friend, Tom," said Scorpius.

"The second voice wasn't yours," said Jase. "Who were you talking to? And why were you talking about me?"

Scorpius couldn't find the words. He sat in stunned silence, staring up at the son of a murderer.

And that, that was when Voldemort decided to reveal himself.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And it only took me how many days to update this story again? Don't worry, I haven't forgotten it. I do love this story and the combination of Jase-Scorpius-Voldemort is my fav. Please review? Because I love you? (lol to rhymes)**


	21. Twenty: James' Rant

**Chapter Twenty: James' Rant**

Jase blinked—once, twice, three times before he was certain that the pale, serpentine face before him was not an illusion. Jase could not get over it. There was the small, blond-haired Scorpius Malfoy nestled in an overly-large winter coat, and there was the ghost-thing that had not been standing beside Scorpius moments before. It was hard to describe the ghost-thing. It was not human, and yet it had two human arms and ten human fingers and a human head attached to a human neck attached to a human chest. But then, where legs ought to be, the ghost-thing trailed off into nothing more than a wisp of air. And that face. Jase could not get over that face. Red cat-like eyes, slits for nostrils, translucent skin, and unnaturally white teeth. It was not human.

Scorpius kept looking from Jase to the ghost and back to Jase, his face turning paler by the second. Several times, Scorpius opened his mouth and tried to explain, but words failed him and he gave up.

"What is that?" asked Jase, breaking the silence.

"_That_?" said the ghost. "I object to being called _that_. I am a human being you know. I have feelings."

Jase took a step back. "It talks."

"I'm not an _it_." The ghost threw its hands into the air and turned to Scorpius in exasperation. "He never learns."

"Is this." Jase's voice failed him and he had to try again. "Is this your imaginary friend 'Tom'?"

"Well," said the ghost, while Scorpius remained white and rooted to the spot. "My name technically is Tom. But I'm not his imaginary friend. I', quite real you know."

Jase refused to acknowledge the ghost's existence and continued to talk directly to Scorpius, who was still not speaking.

"Is Tom a ghost?" asked Jase. "Why are talking to a ghost?"

"I'm not a ghost," said the ghost. "I'm a wisp. Like will-o-the-wisp, but without the will-o-the part. Just a wisp."

Jase stared at Scorpius, waiting for an answer.

Scorpius, somehow, managed to summon the tiniest voice from somewhere within him. Softly, he said, "This is Lord Voldemort."

Jase laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. It was more of a desperate, you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me kind of a giggle. Jase's legs started to tremble, and he looked about wildly to see if any passers-by had noticed the strange wisp. However, no one took note of the supposed Lord Voldemort. They all continued about their way without a second thought.

"They can't see me," said Voldemort. "I've cloaked myself in illusion—because wisps can totally do that—so that only you and Scorpius can see me."

Scorpius nodded mutely.

"There's no way," said Jase decisively. "There's no way."

"No way that I can make myself invisible to all but you?" asked Voldemort. "You do realize that you go to a magic school, don't you?"

"There's no way you're Voldemort," said Jase.

"Well," said Voldemort. "You do go to a magic school full of ghosts."

"My father killed you," said Jase. "He killed you. A ton of people saw it."

"Regrettably," said Voldemort. "I am very much dead. This is my back-up plan—horrible back up plan that it is."

Jase's mouth was hanging open. He couldn't even find words to express himself. "My father… My father… He killed you… You're evil. The most evil wizard of all time. And my father. He killed you. But you're standing right here. With my friend. Why? Scorpius. Why?"

Jase stared at Scorpius, his hazel eyes glittering with some hope that he might receive a reasonable answer. However, when Scorpius finally lifted his gaze to meet Jase's, there was no forgiveness or sympathy in his eyes—only bitterness.

"Voldemort is not evil," said Scorpius. "He's a hero. He gave up everything to save the wizarding world, and in the end, he got nothing for it. Your father can only see the world in black and white. Your father murdered my parents. You father killed one of the greatest wizards this world has ever known, and he was rewarded for it."

Jase was trembling. Every inch of his body was writhing with pure hatred. A great heat rose from his chest, filling his arms and head.

"My dad is a hero," said Jase. "My dad is a hero. He has _statues_ in his name. He saved the wizarding world. He is noble. He is brave. He is loyal. He is self-sacrificing. He _loves_. What is this thing?" Jase pointed wildly in Voldemort's direction. "This _wisp_. You call this thing a hero and my dad—_my dad_—a villain? Shut up. Shut up. _Shut up_. You know _nothing. _Nothing!"

Scorpius pulled back his lips into a sneer. He opened his mouth to respond, but Voldemort quickly drifted between the two boys.

"Listen," said Voldemort, ignoring the seething hatred that sparked between Scorpius and Jase. "Listen, Jase. Listen to my story and then make your choice. But do not judge me when you have only heard one side of the story. The world is not divided into black and white, right and wrong, good and evil. Every human being is gray. Understand this. Your father can be noble, loyal, and brave, while being cruel and murderous. He is not the light nor am I the dark. We are both gray."

Jase did listen to Voldemort's story. He listened to every word. It was the most painful form of torture. Every single word drilled into the core of his being. As Voldemort spoke the images of Jase's childhood ran through his mind. His father teaching Jase how to ride a broom. His father taking Jase and Albus to their mother's last professional Quidditch game. His father helped Jase blow out the last candle on his seventh birthday cake. His father buying Jase a Gryffindor banner. His father telling him stories about James Potter and Sirius Black. His father smiling at another one of Jase's horrible jokes. His father standing on the Platform. His father telling Albus that he would be loved even if he was sorted into Slytherin. His father who always favorite one son over the other. His father who still loved Jase even if it wasn't as much as Albus.

When Voldemort finished telling his story, Jase was crying. Voldemort seemed at a loss to do. He glanced from Scorpius to Jase, unsure if the two boys were going to make up or punch each other.

Jase dashed the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "Get away from me."

Voldemort moved back, no longer able to speak. He had tried to convince Jase and he had failed.

"So," said Scorpius, his voice low and deadly. "You end up choosing the side of the murderer. Your dad was behind them, you realize. Those muggle murders you and Robert have been investigating. In the end, the trail will only lead to you hero."

"Don't ever speak to me again," said Jase.

"I wasn't planning on it," said Scorpius. "You're the one who approached _me_."

"Because you looked _lonely_," said Jase. "Because even if you had given up on me, I never gave up on you. But." Jase was spitting with rage. "You're not lonely. You're friends with a villain and a murderer and a dead person. You're. You're. You're a Slytherin through and through."

And with that, Jase turned around and left Scorpius and Voldemort standing on the edge of the Great Lake. He had nothing left to say.

The bitter cold seemed somehow crueler than before. Jase pulled his winter robes tighter around him and trudged up the hill towards the castle. He loathed everything about Hogwarts right then. The warm, yellow glow of the windows should have been welcoming, but instead Jase found it bitter and taunting. He wanted to shatter the postcard image. At the same time, he wanted to wrap himself in it. He wanted to be Hogwarts. He wanted to go to classes, play Quidditch, talk with ghosts, following moving paintings, have magic adventures—he wanted to be the school. And yet he couldn't. Everything was painfully real. His eyes were red and stinging from fresh tears. He couldn't breathe and yet he wished he didn't have to. It's be so much easier if he could just hold his breath forever.

He wasn't sure how he ended up in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. He wasn't even sure when he entered the castle. Just all of a sudden, he found himself standing in front of her, gasping for air and trying to hold back tears.

"What's wrong, dearie?" asked the Fat Lady.

"Goat's head," said Jase.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" asked the Fat Lady as the portrait hole swung opened.

Jase stepped through without a word. He stumbled into the common room and was suddenly aware that _everyone_ was in there doing homework. Robert looked up, grinning, but his smile soon faded when he saw the wrecked look on Jase's face.

Robert leapt to his feet and hurried after Jase as Jase made his way up the spiral staircase to the bedroom.

"Are you alright?" asked Robert.

"No," said Jase, honestly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Robert.

"No."

"Was it Scorpius? I saw you two talking down by the lake—I didn't want to interrupt."

"Good," said Jase. "You shouldn't have."

"What did he say? What did he do?"

Jase collapsed onto his bed and buried his face in his pillow. "Too much. He said too much."

"What?"

"You were right," said Jase. "In the end, you were right and I was wrong."

"About what?" Robert paced about the end of the four-poster bed nervously.

Jase rolled onto his back and stared up at the red and gold banner his father had bought him after his Sorting. Jase sighed. "He's nothing more than a Slytherin."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Like my page on Facebook (link on profile) for updates on my work (and to see my beautiful profile picture).**

**Also, review.**


End file.
